


The Depths of Deception

by Skyleaf19



Series: The Weight of Both Worlds [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Changes to RWBY Canon, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 154,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyleaf19/pseuds/Skyleaf19
Summary: The nations (plus one) have escaped Remnant and returned to Earth. An unaware RNJR seeks answers while America struggles to navigate a world he doesn't remember, Pyrrha scrambles to adjust to a world she doesn't know, and Canada fails to return to a life he once considered normal. But Remnant and its war are not done with them yet.





	1. Nothing But the Truth

"I know that you are both confused, so I'll try my best to explain."

Canada rolled out a map onto the table and pressed it flat with steady palms. Large landmasses covered the paper, broken apart by huge blue oceans, and the continents themselves were sporadically colored, each individual country marked in legible black ink.

"This is our world. As I told you before, we are on a completely different planet called 'Earth.' Earth is home to hundreds of countries and billions of people, with more cultures and languages than I could count. Unlike Remnant, there are no Grimm hunting humankind, no Faunus to speak of, and very little magic. Instead, we only have ourselves as our enemies…"  _And that animosity could be turned on Remnant should our bosses demand it._  "As a result, most of us are more… prosperous. We do not need to fear monsters in unknown regions, so we could explore and grow, filling our world with cities and nations. One of those countries is the United States of America."

A forefinger tapped a large outlined landmass on the map that lay nestled between two other countries. "This is the land you represent, Alfred. It… used to be the only one you represented. But because of the actions of certain parties on Remnant, you are now the personification of two nations: America… and Vale. I don't know if you remember, but Vale was attacked and her Aura was split between her and her attacker, causing her to go into a coma. Atlas— the nation  _and_  its representative— feared that the rest of Vale's Aura would go to her attacker— Cinder Fall— when Vale died, so they sought to put the rest of Vale's Aura in a safer place. They chose to put it in you."

There was no reaction from his audience, so Canada continued. "You and I were taken by Atlas and held captive for months, experimented on until they were sure that the transfer of Vale's Aura would be successful. They used me as the guinea pig and forced the dying personification of Mantle's Aura into me—"  _Icy fire raced through his veins, ripping apart his insides and forcing its way into the recesses of his soul as he screamed and screamed and_ _ **screamed**_ _—_  "—and when that was successful, they tried to transfer Vale's Aura to you. I interrupted the process and we escaped, leaving Vale's Aura in three pieces. One in Vale, one in Cinder, and one in you."

"The man in charge of our captivity, Ironwood, and his associates— Ozpin, Glynda Goodwitch, and Qrow Branwen, with Ozpin as the leader— found you and wanted you to accept the rest of Vale's Aura to achieve their goal of keeping it from Cinder. You agreed, but were given time because there might be… consequences. Shoving two souls into one body— shoving a nation into another nation's body— could have disastrous consequences. Yet even without accepting, you might not have a choice anyway because the Aura could seek  _you_  instead of Cinder. You wanted to help anyway, but Ozpin wanted to wait until the Vytal Festival was over. So Vale's Aura remained in three pieces… until Beacon was attacked."

"That night, Vale's body— Amber— was killed by Cinder. The Aura inside Amber went to her, and upon realizing that you had the rest, Cinder tried to hunt you down. Pyrrha, Gilbert— Prussia— and I fought Cinder and killed her. As a result, the remainder of Vale's Aura went to you, America." Canada could not bring himself to look at his brother. "You were alone when it happened. We lost you. We didn't know where you were but we weren't about to leave Remnant without you. Qrow steered us in the direction of Mistral, and eventually we found you. That was our only goal. To find you. We planned to leave right after and… we did. And... And so here we are."

The explanation felt lacking— skipping and omitting important pieces of information and events— but it was all Canada could manage at the moment. He finally risked looking at his brother, and cringed at the blank look on his face. America did not wear neutral expressions. He was an open book, showing his emotions with hardly a care. Though, Canada had to admit to himself, America did not always show what he truly felt. Sometimes he covered hurt with smiles and laughed so he would not cry.

Now, America did not plant a grin on his face. Instead he shoved his feelings under a cool stare that belonged on Japan or Germany's face, not his. Yet even that stare could not mask the furious glare America shot at them all, his lips set in a scowl. Canada might not feel intimidated… if it wasn't his brother's  _blue_  eye that was glowering at him, his green one covered by the bandages France had just finished placing over his wound.

America did not look at people with such open mistrust. He did not sit in a chair with his back to the wall so that none of them were behind him. He certainly did not sit with only Pyrrha and Canada at his sides, glaring at anyone who crossed the invisible line in the room he had drawn, the obvious distinction between  _us_  and  _them_  clear to Canada's strategic mind. The twin understood that he was one of the 'us' in that equation. It did not make him feel better because England, Japan, Australia, and France should be as well.

Canada had to wonder what America would do if Italy tried to approach. The Italian was too busy hovering at the unconscious Germany and Prussia's sides, waiting with bated breath for them to awaken. Because nations tended to be injured a lot— usually because of other nations— the infirmary in the building was as functional as a real hospital, with doctors, nurses, and a few other practitioners on standby in case anything went wrong.

Said practitioners had already tended to Germany and Prussia, seemingly successful in providing an antidote to the latter's poisoning. Though relieved, Canada did his best not to look at the bandages wrapped around Prussia's abdomen and Germany's torso and shoulder, the blond-haired nation's injury more visible while the white-haired brother's might be worse.

Normally he would not worry much— the ability to regrow limbs and organs was one of the many perks of being a nation of Earth— but magic was unpredictable. Germany had lost an arm and Prussia's internal injuries had required surgery. If they did not recover completely, Italy might never forgive himself. Perhaps that was why England had refrained from giving the Italian a tongue-lashing about ignoring his warnings when they entered the infirmary.

"So… I'm America." For the first time since comforting Pyrrha in the hallway, the superpower spoke. His tone, like his face, revealed none of his thoughts. Canada met his gaze as steadily as he could, and was stunned— and relieved— to see a flash of vulnerability there. When his brother spoke again, it was only loud enough for him to hear. "I don't even know who 'Alfred' is. How am I supposed to know America?"

Canada did not have an answer to his soft, desperate question. He could only reach out and take his brother's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure this out." he promised.

He was rewarded with a tiny, grateful smile that was heartwarmingly familiar. Finally he could see the emotional nation that was his brother, and not the distant stranger that had his body. A blue eye flicked to England, Japan, France, Australia, and Russia— who were lingering but not close enough to be intrusive. Then he winked, pointing at his bandages.

"So how long do I get to be a pirate?"

A chuckle bubbled free of Canada's chest, startling him, and he was equally surprised to hear a light snort from Pyrrha. The champion had been eerily silent. Canada hoped it was because she simply did not feel the need to speak, and not that she was holding back what she really wanted to say to them. Regardless, the three exchanged small grins and Canada rolled his eyes at America's expense, and for just a second, it was almost like they were back at Beacon, before all this.

Sadly, England overheard. "A while. You should wear an eyepatch once that comes off."

The smile vanished in an instant, replaced by that disinterested look Canada was beginning to despise. Pyrrha visibly flinched and her expression grew closed off as she recalled recent revelations. Canada winced internally, making a mental note to speak with her later. And apologize.

"Why?" America challenged.

Of course, England reacted to his mistrust in a very England-like way. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because people will question why one of your eyes is suddenly  _green_." He snapped.

America's blue eye narrowed dangerously and light flickered in his palms.

"That might be a good idea for now." Canada mentioned before a fight could break out. "It'll cause fewer questions."

To his relief, America backed down, crossing his arms and nodding. "Sounds good. The last thing I want is others asking questions when I don't know anything."

"What  _do_  you remember?" Japan dared to ask. The tension in his shoulders suggested he was bracing himself, and Canada did his best to do the same.

"Mattie— Matthew is my brother." America said instantly, and the violet-eyed twin felt like he could fly. "One of my names is 'America'. I'm the personification of a nation— two nations, apparently. My weapon is called Cobalt Striker." His blue eye went to England and hardened. "England  _was_  my brother.  _Then he pointed a gun in my face._ "

"We were at  _war,_  you brat!" England snapped, getting in the superpower's face.

"Nice to know." America snarled back, blue eye flashing green.

"Enough, you two!" France said, getting between them with his hands raised. "Amérique, please understand you do not have all the facts. Angleterre, stop antagonizing your  _amnesiac_  brother."

The two stepped away from each other, and it was only then that Canada saw Pyrrha was on her feet, weapon in hand. The javelin was pointed in England's direction.

_I really need to talk to her— to both of them._  "I think you all should leave." He said aloud, looking to everyone who wasn't his brother, misplaced friend, unconscious, or Italy. "I'll clarify some things with these two. The others are probably getting sick of waiting."

France nodded in agreement, placing a warning hand on England's arm. "Very well. I will inform the others what happ—" The dark look on America's face made him pause.

America met his cautious stare with a glower of his own. "It's none of their business. Vale, Atlas, Remnant…" He reached up, placing his hand over his covered green eye. "…they don't need to know about any of it."

"Well we need to tell them  _something_." England said, irritable tone likely covering something else. Canada knew the nation well enough to be able to tell. America no longer did, and glared defensively at him.

"Mattie and I were captured. You rescued us. The end." He said flatly. "They want more answers? They can come talk to  _me_." The angry glint in his eye said just how much 'talking' would be involved in that conversation.

"I do not think that is a good idea, America-kun." Japan said hurriedly.

America blinked. "What did you call me?"

Japan hesitated, but pushed on. "America-kun. –kun is a suffix used for friends."

A dark look flashed across America's face, sending a chill up Canada's spine. "Friends." He said flatly. "Huh."

_This is all so wrong_ , Canada despaired.

"Before we go, there's something that needs to be said." France broke back into the conversation. His gaze flicked between Canada, America, and Pyrrha before encasing the other nations as well. His normal flirtatious attitude and bluster vanished, replaced by a sternness that made Canada's back straighten instinctively. "This is not Remnant. This is Earth. The rules are different here, as are what is considered 'normal.' People here do not have Semblances. They do not have Aura. And it needs to stay that way."

His gaze locked onto America and his tone grew eerily firm. "No matter what, you cannot attempt to unlock anyone's Aura here. No matter the circumstances, no matter whether they are human or nation, no matter whether it is a matter of life or death:  _Do not unlock their Aura_  and  _do not use your Semblances openly._  Doing so could shift the balance of this world in a terrible way. While it is true some would benefit from having such abilities, it is as Canada said. We do not have a common enemy, so we would only turn on ourselves. Divisions would form between those with power and those without, a market for trafficking individuals with powers would spring up, and governments would gain an interest in creating superhuman soldiers. We already have weapons capable of destroying continents. We do  _not_  need people with that type of power. Do you understand?"

Careful not to look at Russia, Canada understood all too well. He could see the message was not sinking in as well for his amnesiac brother and Pyrrha. They only knew Remnant and the mindset of Remnant where humans were mostly united against a common foe. He'd have to teach them otherwise and make them understand just how dangerous special abilities could be for Earth. His stomach twisted at the thought.

_At least it's not Ruby._

The twisting in his stomach became a gaping pit as he thought about his friends back on Remnant. They'd left them in the middle of a battle, surrounded by fire and Grimm. Were they alive? Had they been saved? What did they think happened to the nations and Pyrrha? He could guess the answer to that last question. They vanished in the midst of an explosion, leaving little trace behind.

_Is a Dust explosion capable of vaporization? Probably._

"We'll be careful." Canada promised when the other two said nothing.

The slight raise of France's eyebrows indicated he noticed but he did not call them out on it. Instead he smiled briefly. "Good. Now, let us go see to the others before they run out of patience. Come, Angleterre. You can be my shield."

Ignoring England's indignant spluttering, France dragged him out of the room. The other nations followed after him, leaving only Italy, the unconscious Germany and Prussia, Canada, and his two silent companions. As soon as the door clicked shut, America looked to Pyrrha.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice that sounded more like Canada than the boisterous nation America used to b— Matthew knew.

Unlike with the other habits America had adopted, Canada recognized his brother in the tone and some of the knots in his stomach eased. If Pyrrha was surprised by the question, she did not show it, only giving a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine." she said though Canada could tell she was anything but. A gloved hand reached up and brushed a loose lock of red hair away from her face, her normally neat ponytail in tatters thanks to her circlet being ripped from her head. "I'm still… processing, but I'm fine."

"That's okay. I'm still processing too." America said sympathetically. "But we've got each other so we'll figure this out. And we've got Mattie to help us." An arm snaked around Canada's shoulders, giving him a friendly shake and the smile he gave Canada was all America. Uncertainty flashed through his expression just as quickly. "I can call you 'Mattie' right?"

_I do call you 'Mattie', right?_  Canada knew he wanted to ask.

"Yes. Of course." Canada said. "Matthew is my human name. You'll just have to call me Canada around the other nations and during certain political settings."

"Can-a-da." America tested the word, visible eye narrowing in thought. "Sounds familiar." Abruptly, both his arms wrapped around Canada, squeezing him tightly, and he pressed his face against his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry I don't remember you, bro. I'm sorry I don't remember any of you."

Canada struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, shaking hands rubbing slow circles on his twin's back. "It's okay. I'm certain you'll remember everything eventually. And even if you don't, you'll always be my brother."

America said nothing and merely hugged Canada tighter. That left the violet-eyed twin to look helplessly at Pyrrha, who met his gaze steadily. She bit her lip, fingers twitching, and reached out. One hand went to America's shoulder, while the other gripped Canada's left hand.

"I suppose we'll all have to learn to adapt to this situation." She said, and Canada couldn't tell if she was putting on a brave face. Her eyes softened and Canada knew he and America had been forgiven for any lies— and omissions of information— they had told her. The other parties— both here and on Remnant— on the other hand…

Despite himself, Canada's thoughts drifted back to Remnant once more, and to those they had left behind. His heart constricted, taking his breath away, and he closed his eyes, pressing his cheek on the top of America's head.

_I hope they're okay._

XXXXXXX

France was unsurprised that the conference room was in chaos when they returned. So focused on their shouting match were the present nations that it took them over ten minutes to notice the others had come back. The Frenchman took that time to speak softly to his companions.

"Remember, only the vague basics for now. We do not need to cause a panic."

"A stubbed toe would cause this lot to go into a panic." England scoffed, eyeing the still-arguing nations irritably.

"Da, that is true, but a stubbed toe would not make them want to go to war with another planet." Russia mentioned cheerfully.

"Which is why Remnant will not be mentioned." Japan reminded him sternly.

"You still owe me an explanation you know." Australia pointed out.

Russia smiled. "You will get it. They will too, in time. We won't be able to hide this forever."

"We won't have to." England growled. "Only long enough for America to regain his senses."

France knew it was not that simple. The America they knew had been merged with the personification of another world. His mind was a mess of lost memories and half-remembered feelings at this point. In other words, the America that once existed might not come back. Similar situations had happened before, after all. France pushed away those thoughts and put a hand on England's arm.

"Angleterre—"

England shoved him off, frowning at Russia. "How did you get sent home anyway?"

The large nation sighed unhappily. "I landed on my stone when that big Grimm threw me. What a shame. I would have loved to continue to fight and punish those naughty children that had America."

"What a shame." England echoed unenthusiastically.

China finally noticed that they were standing there and stood up, slamming his hand down on the tabletop. "About time you got back, aru! We want answers."

If France were not a nation— or maybe if he were less used to people staring at him— he might be intimidated by the anticipated attention focused on him and his companions. As it was, Australia was not in the complete know, Japan was not the type to take control, England was still frothing at the mouth, and Russia was Russia so it was left to France to respond. He pushed a loose lock of hair behind his ear and crossed his arms, completely serious for once.

"As you all know, America and Canada were captured by a mysterious organization more than nine months ago. We discovered their location and rescued them."

"Like, why weren't we informed?" Poland demanded. "We totally should have been told about this stuff."

"We did not want to give the organization time to move base. We had to act as quickly as possible to rescue Canada and America." France said.

"What's wrong with America?" Lithuania asked, clearly concerned. "He did not seem to recognize us."

France grimaced. He hated the idea of lying to America's friend. England answered before he could try.

"Use your heads." He spat. "He was  _captured_. Do you think they left him in a cell twiddling his thumbs? They experimented on him, you  _gits_!"

Green light crackled around the tip of the staff he still carried and more than one nation jumped, leaning back. France shot England a warning look and he scoffed, but quelled the bubble of magic. Something was odd about the occurrence but France could not put his finger on it.

Austria eyed them critically. "Did you really need to retrieve them with… whatever that light was?"

"This group was dangerous. We needed a quick escape if necessary, and it  _did_ prove to be necessary." France let them fill in the blanks on their own, guessing that most were thinking of the obvious injuries sported by Germany and Prussia. The thought of the brothers made him grimace but he covered it up with a sniff. "Enough questions. We will give you more information later. For now, I would like a shower."

"Oh no you don't." Romano growled, standing up and jabbing a finger at them. "You didn't tell us who did it. Who captured them?"

Dozens of eyes bore into the knowledgeable nations, waiting with bated breath for the answer. France knew they were waiting for people from a country to be blamed, resulting in them turning on the offender even if they had nothing to do with the whole mess. If he told the truth, that rage would come even easier because their world would not be at war with itself again. Instead some distant planet none of them knew existed was their enemy, and they would unite against it. That was why one more tweak of the truth was required.

"It was an organization called 'Atlas'. They were a group of shamed scientists and former military from a mixture of nations who disagreed with how personifications were unable to be scientifically exploited for human gain. They wanted to experiment on us and try to unlock our secrets for themselves. You know what I mean. Healing factors, low-level empathy, immortality. They wanted to unlock all the little perks of nations for themselves." He could almost fool himself into believing his bared teeth were from triumph, not the rage of failure. "They did not succeed in their goals."

But they had succeeded. Atlas had gotten what they wanted. And now America and the Earth might pay for it. That was why the other nations could not know about what happened yet. It would be too easy for them to become overwhelmed by hatred and a need for revenge, dragging the whole planet into a war it could not afford. Not because they might lose, but because as much as France wished otherwise, there were innocents on Remnant who did not deserve to get blown up by nukes. And nuclear weapons were definitely what the governments of this world would send to deal with a world filled with demonic monsters and the super-powered people who hunted them.

"Have they been taken care of?" Netherlands asked stoically.

"They will not bother us again." England stated but France had to wonder if it was actually a vow.

They may be on Earth now, away from Ozpin, Salem, Ironwood, and their forces, but they were not one hundred percent safe. Remnant still had access to the technology that allowed them to steal America and Canada in the first place, and France was willing to bet that at least one party would try to get their new 'Vale' back, and maybe even 'Mantle' too.

The thought of them coming after his adorable brothers again lit a fire in France's chest and he snarled without realizing it, unknowingly causing a couple nations to recoil in surprise. He met England's similarly enraged gaze and was in complete agreement with the Brit for once. Even if Canada shut them out and America mistrusted them, they needed to do everything in their power to protect their brothers. They needed to do whatever it took to keep Remnant out of their world.

And if Ironwood, Atlas, Ozpin, Salem, or their minions came to their planet? They were not unaware anymore. They would be ready. And they had learned from their mistakes during the Pict invasion. New procedures and agreements had been put in place to prevent such a catastrophic outcome from happening again. This time, they'd readily unite against a common foe to fight for their world, against those that had harmed two of their own.

Remnant may have Grimm, magic, and Semblances, but Earth had survived worse. They'd survived the worst of humanity, over and over again, evolving and pushing forward to what they were today. If Remnant attacked again, and their secrets came to light, Earth wouldn't let history repeat. Remnant wouldn't stand a chance. France sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. He hoped Remnant and its people would be content to leave the Earth and its nations alone.

He knew that unless some miracle happened, Remnant would not leave them in peace yet. They'd already been dragged into Remnant's war, and it would come to draft them again soon. With villains like Salem, well-intentioned manipulators like Ozpin, and military-minded men like Ironwood after the twins, it would only be a matter of when.


	2. Tourism

Alfre— America, his name was  _America_  and he needed to get used to it.  _America_  was fine. Everything was fine. He was cool. He was calm. He was totally in control of the situation and okay with everything that was happening. He wasn't overwhelmed at all. Not one bit. Not at all. Not in the slightest—

_This isn't Remnant. This is_ _**not** _ _Remnant. Oh my Gods._

Maybe a little bit. He tried not to show it, because Canada had  _just_  let him and Pyrrha outside after what felt like months stuck in the building and he did not want to ruin that. The 'World Conference' was in session again, so it gave the three the opportunity to finally exit the wing they had isolated themselves in for nearly a week. Once Canada was convinced to let them free, of course.

For the past few days— in between dodging curious nations and checking in on the still unconscious Germany and Prussia, who America couldn't  _help_  but worry for. They looked wounded and helpless, okay?— Canada had been giving the two basic lessons on Earth. Specifically, lessons on America. The country called 'the United States of America', that is. A lot of the information rang true, but it did not magically summon memories from the void, leaving Canada's words feeling… artificial. There was a difference between being told about something and living it, and America was beginning to worry that he might never regain what he had lost.

But enough of that. They were outside and ready to explore the world. Well, the city they were in, not really the world but still. At first glance, things did not seem too different from Remnant. There were cars, the buildings looked familiar, and the people milling about could be from any city. But then a large aircraft soared far overhead, its giant wings proudly spread and its body long and thin, and America knew that this was not Remnant at all.

He risked a glance at Pyrrha and saw her smiling uncomfortably, green eyes trailing the vessel in the sky and hand twitching towards a weapon she'd been forced to leave in the room. She looked a little strange in the red jacket, black t-shirt, and blue jeans she'd been given, though not because they looked bad on her. It was simply strange to see her out of armor.

At least America had been able to wear an Earth version close enough to his old clothes, black jacket with the nice inside pocket and all. His first set couldn't be saved. They were a bit… bloody. And now he had to wear a stupid eyepatch which obscured half his vision and left that side vulnerable.

America's hands drifted towards where Cobalt Striker usually was. Of course it wasn't there— it too was back in the room along with his acquired Scroll and all the Dust he had gotten from Kuroyuri— because apparently weapons like a pump-action shotgun bayonet-bat weren't a thing on Earth. But that was fine.

America took a breath, shoved down the panic gripping his throat, and grinned. "Ah, city air! Just what I needed." He looked at his brother. "What city are we in again?"

"Rome." Canada reminded him. "It's in Italy. South Italy, specifically."

"South Italy." America repeated. "I… don't remember that one. Wait, isn't he the guy who was sitting with uh… Germany and Prussia?" He hated how uncertain he sounded.

Canada's violet eyes softened. "No, that's North Italy; Feliciano." America's face fell and his brother cringed. "Don't worry about it."

"I agree." Pyrrha also reassured America. "You shouldn't expect to know all this. Remember, I am learning as well. It will take a while to learn the names of almost two hundred countries." As she spoke, her eyes widened with wonder— and slight trepidation— as she recalled how many nations there were compared to on Remnant.

"Do we need to know anything about their customs before going out?" America asked before the air could get too tense. "I want to make sure no one is going to stab me if I smile at them."

An odd expression crossed Canada's face.

America grimaced. "Is someone going to stab me if I smile?"

"No, no." his brother said quickly. "Sorry. I was just surprised. You don't usually ask."

America grimaced. "Because I already know this stuff. Right."

Canada looked distinctly uncomfortable at the reminder but shook it off. "Italian is their main language, though many should know some English here. Many establishments only accept cash." He hesitated and glanced around guiltily, lowering his voice. "And Romano would hate me for saying this, but watch out for pickpockets. They're a bit of a problem here."

"I don't have any money to steal." America said with a shrug. "Roman and Neo took it when they—" He realized his mistake just in time and clamped his mouth shut.

"When they what?" Canada questioned.

_When they shot me._ "Uh, well…"America searched desperately for an escape and something sparkly caught his eye. "That looks cool!"

America escaped Canada's grasp and strolled over to the store, nodding politely to the woman behind the counter. Apparently that was acceptable because she didn't try to throw a knife at him. America blinked, perplexed as to why his thoughts had jumped to that scenario. No accompanying memory came to explain so he huffed, leaning over to examine a piece of jewelry.

He could feel someone at his shoulder—  _Ever heard of personal space, Mattie?_ — but ignored him. America had done a very good job so far of not saying what happened between waking up and that last night with Neo's group, and he had no intention of sharing now. So what if he was shot and left to die? It wasn't that big of a deal. According to Canada, their kind died and healed all the time so it was normal. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a relief to hear that though. It was nice to know he wasn't a freak. Since dying was normal there was no need to tell Mattie. Mattie would only fret and stare at him with sad violet eyes like he was right now.

"Alfred, what were you going to say?" his brother asked sternly.

"Oh, nothing much. They just took my money when they left." — _me to die_ , he finished mentally. "Hey, Pyrrha, what do you think of these?"

The red-haired girl gave him a doubtful look but dutifully inspected the necklace he was pointing to. "It's beautiful." Pyrrha murmured. She peered at him from the corner of her eye. "And you're avoiding the subject."

It was a good thing America didn't pick up the necklace. He could imagine it crumbling into dust in his hand. "You bet I am." he stated. "I'm not talking about it. We're touring, not interrogating me."

"At least you haven't lost your dissociation." Canada muttered.

America twitched, took a breath, and smiled. "It's part of my charm. So where to first, dearest brother of mine?"

Yes, he might be reinforcing Canada's point but he didn't care because he wasn't talking about the past. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Not ever was preferable.

Thankfully, Canada did not continue to push him— though America had a feeling he wouldn't forget this little conversation and would bring it up again later. Instead he took Pyrrha and America to the Colosseum, one of Rome's most well-known tourist attractions. His brother had pre-ordered tickets to it and a couple other sites, so they were able to skip the long line outside.

Honestly, the stone structure put Amity Colosseum to shame. Not just because of the craftsmanship that had to be involved in its creation, but simply because it was  _old_. Almost two thousand years old, and still standing. That was definitely older than America, and maybe even older than Vale if he remembered correctly. And there was stuff on Earth even older than that. It made Remnant and their Kingdoms seem awfully young in comparison.

_This is what a world without Grimm can become. There are so many countries and cities out there, some from times long, long ago._ His gaze drifted from the guide that was spouting information about the Colosseum to the broken part of the wall.  _It wasn't Grimm that did that. It was an earthquake, a natural disaster. And yet the Colosseum survived even that. It is still here. It's gone through so much— like this country and world has— but it hasn't fallen._ A stab of pain went through his chest and he rubbed it absently.  _If only Vale were so stable._

After the tour and Pyrrha used her new 'cellphone'—not Scroll— courtesy of Canada, to take some pictures, the three went to the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill. Fascination slowly overcame America's shock and overwhelmed feelings and Canada had to stop him from going places the public were not allowed. As in, Canada somehow got Pyrrha to keep a firm grip on his adventurous brother's arm and no amount of puppy-dog eyes or pleading made her release him.

America couldn't help it. There was so much more that could be discovered here, relics of a distant past just ready to be revealed. Maybe he could convince Lovino to let him join an archaeological expedition sometime in the future.

America frowned and leaned over to Canada. "Bro? Who's Lovino?"

Canada blinked at him, violet eyes flicking open, before his lips twitched into a small smile. "That's Romano's— South Italy's— human name."

"Have you mentioned it before?" America asked hesitantly.

Canada's smile became a full grin. "No."

Once, America might have whooped out loud or beamed like a fool. Now he simply looked down, lips pursed thoughtfully. "Huh."

They continued on their tour of the city, going from place to place, seeing the sights, and stopping for food when Pyrrha's stomach growled loud enough to be heard from orbit. America could not contain the undignified snorting he erupted into at the mortified look on her face, his laughter only growing when her cheeks matched her hair. They stopped at a small restaurant for a late lunch— or was it early dinner?— each getting a sizable portion of pasta that was almost as good as hamburgers. Almost.

Most tourists would be tired by that point, but the three were not most tourists. They were used to walking and standing for long periods of time, so with a lot of daylight and energy left they decided to check out a few more attractions. There were so many more places to see. Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, the Spanish Steps… and so many of them had centuries of history behind them. It made America wonder what his country was like.

" _Help me!_ "

America froze in place, head snapping to the side in the direction of the faint cry. Pyrrha and Canada kept walking, only to slow and look back when they saw he wasn't moving.

"Al? What's wrong?" the red-haired girl asked, concerned.

America held a finger up to quiet her, struggling to listen over the babble of people around him. Voices spoke in mostly Italian and English, but they were happy and not the slightest bit distressed. Maybe he was just hearing things.

" _Help!_ " Someone cried from down a barren street.

America definitely heard it that time. "Did you hear that? Someone called for help!"

He ran down an alleyway, ignoring his brother's warning shouts. His hand groped for a weapon that was not there, grasping only air, and with a muttered curse he kept running, memories of hand to hand combat buzzing through his mind. There were no Grimm here, so the issue was probably mundane. He could handle it.

The emptiness of the alley should have been his first clue. America scanned the area, listening for more sounds of distress, but all he heard was the distant murmur of the crowds. He was certain that the shouts had come from here—

The familiar coldness of a gun pressed against America's temple.

_Three unfamiliar men stood in the alleyway. One had his arm around Canada, keeping his arms pinned to his sides, and was holding a gun to the nation's head. America froze, slowly processing what he was seeing. Then his blue eyes narrowed._

" _Let him go." He growled menacingly._

America froze. In the corner of his eye, he saw a man, who held his gun with the steadiness of someone trained to use it.

"Put your hands up or I'll shoot!" the man demanded in a low, accented voice.

" _Put your hands where I can see them or I'll shoot." One of the muggers demanded. "Now!"_

_America put his hands in the air. "Okay. My hands are up, see? Let's all calm down here."_

He put his hands in the air, almost choking on the lump in his throat. The memories stabbed at his skull, making his vision swim but he forced himself not to move. He couldn't find his voice this time, and though deep down he knew his Aura would take the bullet, his heart still pounded frantically.

_Not again._ _**Not again** _ _._

"Give me your money." The mugger demanded.

" _We're not after your money." The soldiers sneered._

It was a struggle to remain coherent as his head threatened to split open, claws ripping through his brain as ice picks stabbed into his eyes. If the mugger shot him, he probably wouldn't even notice.

"I don't have any money." He forced out.

"Don't lie to me!" the mugger snapped.

Two rapid thuds were all the warning America got before something red slammed into the mugger, tackling him to the ground. The man bellowed, gun swinging wildly, and as Pyrrha shoved him down, his finger compressed on the trigger.

**BANG!**

_Something hit America in the back, making him stagger forward. He fell to the ground, flinching slightly and groping for the thing he could feel sticking between his shoulder blades—_

America slowly realized he was on the ground. He did not remember how he got there, yet there he was, on his knees with his hands pressed over his breastbone. There was no pain except the daggers in his head and the tightness in his chest. He was breathing too quickly, he realized, his vision swaying dangerously. He blinked and Canada was crouching in front of him, mouth moving, but try as America might he could not hear his brother's words.

A hammer slammed into his head, sending bolts of pain through his skull and down his spine. The swaying world grew blotchy and black spots expanded in front of his eye, slowly getting bigger, and America drowned in it.

_America lost his fight to remain conscious, and everything faded to black._

Everything went black.

XXXXXXX

_America woke in chains._

_The nation breathed rapidly, eyes darting left and right, and saw he was in a dark room. He got into a sitting position on the metal bed-like slab he had woken on and immediately pulled at the chains binding him to the wall. He had super strength. Little chains like these should be nothing. Except they did not break, no matter how hard he pulled. In fact, they did not budge at all, not the tiniest bit. He eventually slumped in a sitting position._

I got captured. Canada did too.

…England is going to be so mad at us.

_The door to the room opened and America sat up straight, glaring as a man walked in. His hair was black, his face stern, and he wore an unfamiliar but definitely militaristic uniform. America's heart sank just a little bit._

Oh, great. It finally happened. Some psychos created an organization to hunt nations. This is going to suck.

_America did not show his unease, however, instead glowering at the man. "You've made a really bad decision, du—_ _**Hey!** _ _"_

_America yelped despite himself as the man placed his hand on his chest. Oh, shit. Was this dude_ that _kind of captor? The kind who got all touchy-feely and creepy with his 'specimens'? America did not want to deal with that, no siree, and he let the man know it._

" _What the_ _ **hell**_ _are you doing?" America hissed, trying to lean away._

_The soldier ignored him. He adjusted his hand on the nation's chest, grabbing him firmly with his free hand so America could not wiggle away. In a clear, strong voice, he spoke._

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of strength and power to shield others from the weight of the world. Infinite in potential and unbound by fate, I release your soul, and for my Kingdom, give this burden to thee. _"_

_Energy rushed through America's veins. He gasped, startled by the intensity of it, and watched wildly as he glowed_ _**blue** _ _. The light vanished but the strange feeling it created remained. America's skin crawled and his stomach twisted. The man stood up, face pale and drawn._

" _That took more Aura than I thought." He murmured. He walked away, speaking to someone outside. "Tell me when the other one wakes up. I need time to recover my strength."_

" _W-Wait!" America shouted, hating how his voice cracked. "What did you_ _ **do**_ _to me?"_

_The man did not look at him. "And keep that one drugged. We can't let him escape."_

" _Yes, General." One guard said._

_They slammed the door shut, leaving America alone with his unconscious brother._

_His isolation did not last long because another three soldiers came in. One had a syringe in his hand. America shrank against the wall like he was afraid, curling up and waiting for the man to get in range. Once he was close enough, the nation lashed out, catching him in the knee with his foot. The soldier went down with a curse, dropping the needle and clutching at his knee._

_The other soldiers grabbed America, holding him down, and he must still be weakened from the previous dose because he could not throw them off like he normally would. The third soldier grabbed the injector, stumbling to his feet, and America's head was pushed sideways, exposing his neck._

_America winced as the syringe was shoved into his skin, the icy contents within expunged into his veins. He shuddered but remained silent, refusing to make the smallest whimper of pain. Whatever the drug was worked quickly and his senses dulled, everything growing foggy and slightly distant._

_He vaguely felt the men release him and suddenly he was laying down, the cold metal of the slab against his cheek. Huh. He did not remember falling. A haze crept over his thoughts, blanketing them in a grey mist, and he floated peacefully, not unconscious but not aware either. It was almost calming, but there was a constant, muffled part of him that screamed he needed to wake up and focus._

_He did not know how much time passed before the shout became loud enough for him to act on it. He crept out of the haze, returning to his exhausted and aching body, and slowly became aware that the shouts were very real._

" _Come on, please wake up…"_

_Though to call Canada's quiet pleading 'shouts' was a bit of a lie. The nation was not being very loud but his words reverberated through America's skull like a drum anyway. The blue-eyed brother tried to open his eyes and saw a blurry figure._

" _Ca'da…" he slurred._

_His vision cleared slowly and he saw his brother straining against his bonds. Upon seeing him open his eyes, Canada relaxed slightly, though he still quivered._

" _Are you okay?" he whispered anxiously._

_It took a moment for America's foggy brain to process the message. "Fine." He mumbled. "Drugged. Gettin' better."_

_As he spoke the fog was lifting, creeping away either from time or his healing factor. America hoped it was the latter but suspected the former was the case. Canada had been out cold for longer than he should have been._

_Before his mind cleared enough to fully recall their situation, the door creaked open and the General and some soldiers walked in. A lower-ranked goon saw America was awake and leaned over, murmuring in the General's ear. The nation only heard a few of the man's whispered words: 'feisty' 'knee' 'bastard' and 'watch him'. He remembered kicking the soldier earlier and smirked._

_The smile was wiped from his face as a soldier grabbed him, pressing a gun to his temple. Canada froze, hands slightly raised and expression openly panicked as he saw his brother's situation._

" _Don't try anything." The General warned._

_The northern nation nodded, afraid to speak. America watched Canada tremble as the General approached him. He remained still, placid, and confused as the man put his hand on the quiet nation's chest, violet eyes flicking nervously to his brother._

_America wanted to warn him but the gun against his head kept him silent. He still did not know what the General had done to him. For all he knew, the psycho had figured out a way to make nations mortal— what, with all that chanting about immortality and death what else could it be?— and America did not want to think about what might happen to his people if he was killed._

_Instead he tried to comfort Canada silently as the General gave the strange chant again, refusing to look away as his fellow nation flinched violently and red energy flared over his frame. The General backed away, slightly paler than before, but he wiped at his brow and stepped to the middle of the cell, hands behind his back. He looked from nation to nation, face perfectly blank._

" _I suppose you are wondering why you are here?"_

_America glared. "Oh,_ _**yeah.** _ _How did you ever guess—?" He grunted as the soldier holding him gave him a harsh shake._

_The General ignored him, continuing as if he had never spoken. "Let's just say that we are…_ _**interested** _ _in your kind. We know what you are. We also know that your kind is functionally immortal." His dark eyes grew cold. "Though I don't think you are anymore."_

_So his hunch was right. That's what the chant did. It took their immortality. America wanted to laugh at the thought but the little light-show that accompanied the chant gave him pause. The purpose of the chant was unknown. These people were also unknowns. That meant there was the tiniest chance they were not bluffing._

_America hid his unease behind a glare, motivated by one thought:_ Protect Canada.

" _Thanks for the info, dude." He said, happily solidifying himself as the snarky, badmouthed one they needed to keep an eye on. "Now if you could tell me the exact details of your evil plan and everything I'd really appreciate it."_

_Something close to anger flashed through the General's dark eyes, accompanied by another emotion America could not hope to identify. There was the slightest pause, like he was taking a breath before he responded._

" _I won't waste my time. The truth is… we only need one of you."_

_The click of a gun's safety turning off was shockingly loud in the silence. America identified the sound as coming from the gun at his head. Instead of fear, a sense of peace fell over the blue-eyed nation. Oh. So that's how it was. Out of the two of them, they had chosen him to die. He was glad._

_Canada was not._

" _Don't!" the northern nation shouted, pulling frantically against his restraints. "Y-you'll want him for your goals. He's stronger than I am."_

_America could practically see his brother scrambling to come up with reasons to not kill one of them. He could not find his voice to try to assist him, instead sitting in puzzled silence._

" _We know." The General said flatly. "But the strongest ones always tend to be the most troublesome."_

_At his words, America's heartbeat sped up, like the organ was trying to make up for all the times it would never beat. He was not afraid though. Not really. He had died before. But a nation's version of dying could not truly be called death, and these men sounded so confident that he was now completely mortal…_

_Canada was rambling, sentences melding together as he tried to convince the soldiers why it was a good idea to keep both of them alive. America should comfort him but the words caught in his throat and he merely sat there silently. He idly wondered what the soldiers were thinking about him. Did they seem him as dignified and defiant? Stunned and submissive? Unable to react?_

_The gun barrel was so cold._

_The General nodded at the soldier._

" _PLEASE!_ _" Canada screamed._

_America shut his eyes. He heard the man's finger compress on the trigger and—_

**BANG!**

_There was no pain. At first America thought the bullet had killed him too quickly to feel anything, but then he felt the pounding of his heart in his chest. He hesitantly opened his eyes and saw he was still in the cell. He was still with the soldiers._

_He was still alive._

What…?

_The General nodded at the soldier again and he pointed his gun at Canada's head._

_Icy fear snapped into place in America's chest. "_ _NO—!_ _"_

**BANG!**

_The bullet hit his brother directly in the forehead… but there was no wound. Canada stared at the soldier and his weapon, violet eyes round with shock and confusion. Then he slumped against the wall, from relief or terror America did not know. But not from an injury._ _**There was no wound.** _

_The General looked to the soldiers. "Leave us."_

_The men walked out, shutting and locking the metal door behind them. The General stayed in the center of the cell, out of reach of the nations. He relaxed, hands behind his back and stance less aggressive, and looked between his two prisoners, sneer gone and gaze solemn._

" _I apologize for frightening you. I needed to…" His jaw clenched. "…_ _ **test**_ _something." His expression cleared. "I did not take your immortality, and I have no intention of doing so." He took a breath. "The real purpose of that chant was to unlock what is known as Aura, an extension of your soul that manifests as a type of force field, along with granting the user other abilities such as a Semblance, or power that is unique to its wielder. That is why you are both unwounded."_

_America found his voice. "…What?" he whispered. His voice grew stronger as anger and disbelief took hold. "What are you_ _**talking** _ _about? 'Unlocking Aura'? A 'force field' that's 'an extension of our souls'? That's ridiculous!"_

_Even as he said it, he could not fully believe his own claims. It sounded crazy. 'Extensions the soul' and 'force fields' and 'Semblances'. It sounded like England and his 'magic'. But America could not deny how different he felt. He could not deny that it had saved his life. He could not deny that it was real._

_The General looked to him, expression stern. "Perhaps on your world it is impossible, America. But you are not on your world anymore."_

_He frowned, expression darkening as his hand drifted towards his ear. "I'm afraid I have to cut this explanation short. I will continue in more detail at a later time." He walked to the door and waited for a soldier to open it, but paused in the doorway, looking back at them. "Welcome to Remnant." His gaze hardened. "…I'm afraid you're going to be here a very long time."_

_He slammed the door shut behind him._

America couldn't open his eyes. An anvil pressed down on his head, threatening to split his skull, and someone pounded a hammer against it, each blow sending a bolt of pain through his head and making even his teeth ache. His tongue felt too large for his mouth, choking and nauseating him, and he squeezed his eyelids shut as tightly as he could, feeling a few droplets gather at the creases.

Something touched his forehead and he jolted, grabbing it fiercely and yanking it away from his skin. He heard a muffled yelp and the thing— a hand— pulled itself from his grasp. He wasn't alone. America cracked his eyes open, wincing as light stabbed his right retina. Noticing his discomfort, a shadow leaned over him. There was a small click and the light dimmed.

"Al? Are you awake?" a voice asked.

America shut his eyes in an attempt to will his headache away. It must have worked some— or the darkness of his eyelids and eyepatch helped— because when he opened his eyes again, it no longer felt like someone was playing drums on his skull. He squinted at the two worried faces hovering over him and forced a smile.

"Hey."

Canada's pinched expression eased. "Hey, yourself. Are you feeling better?"

"Right as rain." America lied, ignoring the painful throbbing behind his eyes. "What happened? I was…" He winced. "…almost mugged."

The pinched expression was back.

"I took down your assailant." Pyrrha explained before Canada could. "He accidentally fired when I tackled him."

Her wording startled a laugh out of America. "'Tackled'? Dude, you  _body slammed_  him."

Her cheeks colored. "I admit I was a bit overeager in my defense of you."

The ache in America's cheeks faded as his forced grin grew more natural. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you."

Her green eyes widened and she smiled back.

America took a moment to inspect his body, noting the lack of pain except in his head. "So what happened after? I'm not hurt."

Pyrrha's small grin vanished and her green eyes dulled.

"The bullet hit the wall behind you." Canada explained when she remained silent. "You grabbed your head and collapsed. Pyrrha took you back here and I called the police. They arrested the man." Canada's hands clasped together and he leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Do you know why you collapsed? You've been unconscious for a few hours."

America avoided his brother's piercing gaze and chewed on his lip, debating whether to tell him. He couldn't think of a reason not to. Unlike with the Neo situation— Alfred forced himself not to twitch— Canada was there during his memories. He might as well let his brother know. "I remembered our capture and what happened after. No biggie. Just needed to be shot at again to jolt it loose, haha."

Neither of his companions laughed. Canada's eyes went round and softened with something America desperately hoped wasn't pity. He risked a glance at Pyrrha and saw the pinched expression had transferred to her.

"I think…" Canada said slowly. "…that maybe it would be best for you to explore your country first."

"Why? Will my people not mug their own personification?" America asked, only half-joking.

"Most won't, actually." Canada revealed. "We have a special connection with our people, and they'd have to be truly terrible to outright  _attack_  their own personification. There are exceptions of course, but they're rare."

America blinked, not expecting that answer. "Oh. Cool."  _I guess it's different than Remnant. Roman and Mercury had no problem attacking me—_  He cut off that line of thought and clapped his hands together, rubbing them eagerly. "So when do we leave?"

Canada frowned briefly, perhaps sensing America's forced shift in mood but let it go. "We depart tomorrow."

"Awesome!" Alfred crowed, and he meant it. He was finally going to  _his_  country, the United States of America. It was what he represented, where he belonged, and maybe once he got there, he'd stop feeling like an alien on his own world. A thought struck him and he frowned at Pyrrha. "Don't you need paperwork to get into a different country? I don't think Remnant's IDs will work."

"I'll take care of it." Canada promised them both. He hesitated, uncertainty flashing across his expression, then pressed on. "Do you have a preference for citizenship, Pyrrha?"

The girl thought about it, staring thoughtfully at her weapon. America had not even realized she'd been holding it. Apparently he was not as awake as he thought. Shoot.

"I'd… like to be American, if you do not mind." Pyrrha decided. "That way I can be Alfred's bodyguard."

Both America and Canada gave her identical stunned looks.

"I— You—  _What?_ " Alfred stammered.

Pyrrha met his gaze levelly. "I've been thinking about this since we were told about Earth. There are not many uses for my skills in this world, and if I simply hang around you for no apparent reason, people will ask questions. This way, no one will give me a second glance if I am near you all the time, and I can defend you when necessary." Her confident expression faltered briefly. "If you'll have me, of course."

"I— Yeah. I don't mind you staying around." America stammered. "We're not going to just leave you to figure things out alone. But… why  _this_? I don't need a bodyguard."

"I think you do." She said softly but sternly. "As today clearly showed, you are in a vulnerable place right now. Let me protect you."

"Because I'm Vale?" America blurted without meaning to.

"Because you're my friend." Pyrrha stated.

He studied her carefully, searching for any ulterior motives. He only saw her determination, her genuine desire to help… and maybe a little desperation to be useful. America understood more that she probably wanted him too. She needed a purpose, and if that purpose let her defend her friend?

_She… really is my friend._

America's vision blurred and he launched himself at Pyrrha, hugging her tightly. She twitched, but returned the embrace readily enough. Alfred did his best not to sniffle because no, he was  _not_  going to cry over something as little as this. Even though it meant everythi— a lot to him.

"Thanks, Py-Py." America whispered, hoping she could hear the raw gratefulness in his voice.

He heard her gasp and Canada's sharp inhale but didn't care. He had two people he could trust completely. He had a friend, a real friend, not someone who wanted to use him for their own gains. And he was slowly remembering things, like his recent past and Romano. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he thought. Maybe Earth wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe those other nations were truly his friends too.


	3. Late Night Discussions

Pyrrha sat by a large window, gazing out into the dark city. Night had fallen long ago, but the town was still alive with people and lights. Her gaze followed a couple as they walked down the street, the taller man twirling the laughing woman as they danced to a silent beat. As she watched, he lifted the woman into the air, spinning her about, and she giggled, smacking him lightly on the arm. Pyrrha could almost hear her demand to be put down, laughter in her voice, and his responding, dopey grin never left as he obliged, leaning in for a kiss.

"Pyrrha?"

The champion looked away from the couple to Matthew, polite smile falling into place. "Matthew. Er, Canada. I'm sorry."

Violet eyes softened. "I told you, either is fine. You can keep calling me whatever you want."

"I have to get used to making a distinction according to the setting." Pyrrha said adamantly. "If I am to accompany Alf— America, I want to use his country name when appropriate."

"You won't have to worry about that for a while." Canada reassured her. "We have little over a month until the next meeting."

"You convene so often?" Pyrrha questioned.

"We didn't used to, but apparently they made the conferences more frequent after America and I…" He grimaced. "…disappeared."

Pyrrha bit her lip, looking down at her lap. "I'm sorry."

"You're not to blame for the actions of Ironwood and the others." Canada said bluntly. "Don't feel guilty just because you're from Remnant too."

Pyrrha flinched, eyes on her white-knuckled hands. "I admit I feel some guilt through association, but I suppose you're right." Now if only she could make herself believe him.

Canada hummed vaguely and sat across from her. Pyrrha noticed the Maple Frost in its holster on his back. Before she could consider the reasons for its presence he spoke.

"How are you doing?" Matthew looked at her over his glasses in a very Goodwitch-like way. "And don't say you're 'fine'. I know you're upset."

"A little bit." Pyrrha demurred. "I'm mostly overwhelmed."

"It's a lot to take in, I know." Canada said sympathetically. He looked around the dark room and sighed, slumping in his chair. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"What  _was_  it supposed to be like?" Pyrrha questioned.

"We'd return without saying goodbye and without you ever finding out about us or Earth. Apparently England planned on ditching you once we found America. I… can't say I blame him." Matthew admitted, his guilt clear in his voice.

The champion nodded slowly, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Pyrrha was more upset with herself than them for the secrets. In hindsight, it was blatantly obvious they were strange. When he had been injured, Prussia spoke in a completely different language. At the time, Pyrrha had assumed he was speaking gibberish but that could not be further from the truth. Was her ignorance simply born from the puzzle pieces appearing unrelated, or did she willfully ignore them so she wouldn't have to consider the possibilities?

Yet there was no sting of betrayal because of the nations' actions and secrets. Coming from another planet was not something that could simply be brought up in casual conversations, and the more people that knew, the bigger chance there was of their enemies finding out. She could clearly picture what would have happened if Ruby knew and blurted the secret to Emerald, or to 'someone in the know' that Emerald was disguised as. All it would have done was drag more people of Earth into Remnant's war with Salem. So no, Pyrrha was not upset about that.

She was horrified about how the Earth nations' involvement came to be and the innocent lives her superiors thought were worth risking for their goals.

"I understand why you didn't tell us. All it would have done was confuse us… and make us wonder if Ozpin and Ironwood can be trusted." Her eyes closed. "Secrets… Withheld information… Kidnapping… Experimentation… Those actions are all bad enough. But to put an entire uninvolved world and  _billions_  of people in jeopardy…?" She trailed off, unable to comprehend the number of lives Atlas had been willing to sacrifice.

"Ozpin didn't know Alfred was America until England showed up during the Vytal Festival." Canada informed her.

"And Ironwood?" she questioned. "He knew. He  _knew_  you had your own people to protect. He  _knew_  those experiments would put them at risk. He took you anyway."  _He hurt you anyway._

Canada looked down, but Pyrrha could see the anger that flashed over his features. "He thought it was necessary for Remnant's survival."

And that was the problem. That was why Pyrrha was glad she didn't know the secret until now. Because if she had known the full extent of what Ironwood had done and Ozpin tried to finish, she was not sure she could fight for them anymore. Salem was the villain, there was no question of that, but when Atlas, Ironwood, and so many others were ready to possibly doom another planet to save their own, were they any better? Was saving their world worth destroying another one? Pyrrha didn't think so.

Because of that, maybe a small part of her was glad she was on Earth and not Remnant. The thought of simply following orders and fighting the war against Salem and the Grimm while knowing exactly how far her 'side'— the side that was meant to fight for humanity,  _all_  of humanity— was willing to go to win disturbed her. She couldn't sit there and accept the sacrifices they had been willing to make. She needed time to think, even though her heart ached whenever she thought of her friends back home.

_Jaune…_

Pyrrha aborted that line of thought, moving onto other topics. "I'm sorry about today."

"What do you mean?" Canada asked.

She averted her gaze. "Alfred was nearly hurt due to my reckless actions. I tackled the mugger when I should have pulled the gun from his hand as soon as I saw it."

"If you had he could have talked about his gun 'magically' flying from his hand." Canada said sternly. "I know it's harsh, but even if America was hit he would have been fine. Using your Polarity on the gun is not worth the risk of people learning about your Semblance. Powers like yours are new ground for this world and there are many who would be eager to cultivate them for themselves."

Pyrrha frowned. "But Art— England can use magic."

"Many times, his bosses are unaware of that. The Royal family is always told, but the Prime Minister isn't." Canada told her. "And even if they know, the laws defending nations from experimentation protect England and the others who can use magic. Magic is also not something anyone can possess. Auras and Semblances  _are_." His eyes flashed and the temperature dropped. "It doesn't help that someone might already be after you both."

"You don't think the attempted mugging was a coincidence." Pyrrha realized.

"Not in the slightest." Canada growled. "America was out in Rome and someone just  _happened_  to call for help  _in English_  nearby? I doubt that. He was  _lured_  to that alley."

"Do you think it's someone from Remnant? Are they still after Vale?" Pyrrha asked uncomfortably.

If it was someone on Ironwood, Ozpin, or Salem's side then she had a potential way home. But she'd rather have no chance at all if it kept Vale out of their hands.

_They still need Alfred to unlock the Relic in Beacon. Salem does especially. Ozpin's goal is to defeat her, but Salem's plans stagnate if she cannot retrieve all the Relics. She won't stop hunting Alfred._ Pyrrha shivered.  _That's why I will defend him this time._

"I don't know. I hope it isn't Remnant, but if it isn't, it's someone on Earth and they're  _interested_  in one of us." Canada said. "Until we know who the threat is, we must be careful. It'll be harder for enemies to sneak up on America in his own land so we should be safer once we're there." He sighed. "And despite what I said, I think Alfred should wait a little before touring even his own country. We need to locate the enemy first."

"I agree." Pyrrha said. She shifted in her seat. "Will the… others be joining us?"

She could feel his eyes on her. "Not yet. France and the others have to meet with their bosses once the conference is done so it'll just be us three for now." Canada blinked. "Oh shoot. And Tony."

"Who's Tony?" Pyrrha asked.

"An alien that lives in America's house." Canada said blandly, rubbing his forehead. "I completely forgot to tell him we're back and I doubt any of the others did it. He's going to be upset."

"…'Alien'?" Pyrrha questioned, wondering if she heard right.

"Alien; as in 'a stereotypical little grey man with large red eyes from outer space'? Yes." Canada explained far too casually for Pyrrha's liking. He winced. "Remind me to tell America about him before we show up." He winced again. "Forget upset, Tony's going to be ticked America's memory is gone. Oh, Maple…"

His shoulders hunched like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he might as well have. Pyrrha was nowhere close to learning about the intricacies of Earth, but it was a lot more complicated than Remnant's coexisting few Kingdoms, and America was smack dab in the middle of it all. He was a 'superpower', one of the most influential countries in this world, and if he crumbled it could plunge Earth into chaos and war. Pyrrha guessed that was why the nations in the know were so determined to hide Alfred's amnesia, because if the wrong sort found out he was vulnerable…

Pyrrha was beginning to highly dislike politics. Too much subterfuge and sneaking around. Not to sound like Yang, but she liked an enemy she could face head on. The champion shoved away the thoughts about her friends and smiled at Matthew, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm certain you will be fine. I will help you explain where I can. And who knows, maybe this 'Tony' will help Al— America regain his memories, if they are so close."

Canada's exhausted posture slipped away and he smiled back. "You may be right. Al remembered Lovino's name all on his own. The memories  _are_  there. We just need to find them." He glanced at the clock and frowned. "But right now, you need to go to bed. It's late."

"Alright." Pyrrha agreed easily. She rose from her seat. "Don't stay up too late. Goodnight, Matthew."

"Night, Patricia." Matthew said, expression innocent, and the champion stifled a laugh.

Pyrrha exited the room and quickly headed to her makeshift sleeping quarters next door. She felt less weighed down than before, sincerely pleased that she could assist her friends. Pyrrha was glad she could focus on their problems.

That way she did not have to face her own.

XXXXXXX

Canada held his cellphone to his ear, biting his lip and glancing at the time. It was the middle of the night in Rome, Italy, and he could only hope it wasn't an inconvenient hour in North America. No one appreciated being woken in the wee hours of the morning, not even the flexible and generally good-natured man that was his brother's boss.

In terms of politicians, the current President was very open-minded, not shifting towards one extreme view or the other. Seeing as how he'd been an Independent candidate in his election, Canada supposed that wasn't a surprise. The man didn't feel the need to adhere to any Party's views; instead trying to do what he thought was best for the people and choosing to find a simple balance between them.

That did not mean he was the soft sort. The man was strong-willed and rather stern, and fully prepared to fight tooth and nail for what he thought was right. When he first saw the President, Canada could hardly believe such a solemn, calm figure was his brother's current boss. The man had looked positively stoic next to the exuberant nation, who had cheerfully introduced him to Canada with big smiles and much gesturing. Those calculating green eyes had unnerved the northern nation at first— Canada always worried deep down that America's luck might run out and the next new President might be a monster that would doom them all— but once the man had spoken with him, Canada knew he was alright.

" _It is a pleasure to meet you, Canada." The President said calmly. "If you do not mind, there's a question I'd like to ask you that I'd appreciate getting answered."_

_Canada smiled nervously. "Likewise, Mister President. And no, I don't mind at all."_

_Green eyes moved from the Canadian to his brother, who happily chatted away with Canada's Prime Minister, and his lips pursed. "How can I stop your brother from being bored?"_

_Canada's nerves disappeared and he put a hand to his head and sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "What did he do?"_

" _He took Air Force One on a joyride. Twice." The President informed him._

_Canada's eye twitched. "ALFRED FRANKLIN JONES!"_

The President had looked all-too amused to see his personification get berated by the normally-quiet northern nation. Between that and his question, Canada knew he was the okay sort. Once he was done lecturing America— with said lecture going into one ear and vanishing into the void— Canada had told the man America was always jittery and wild after an election and he'd calm down eventually. If he didn't, distract him with a project or food.

The President apparently took his advice very seriously, though that didn't stop him from sending an America-on-coffee-energy-drinks-sugar-and-espresso to Canada from time to time. The Canadian suspected America's boss was a bit of the mischievous sort, just like his nation. Still, he was trustworthy and that was what mattered.

The phone stopped ringing with a click. " _Hello?_ "

"Hello, Mister President, sir."

" _Matthew Williams?_ " the President sounded surprised. " _You're back?_ " There was a rustling sound. " _Is Alfred with you?_ "

_Oh Maple. No one called him?!_

Canada winced, mentally cursing England, France, and all the other idiots who didn't think to give  _America's boss_  an update. "Yes sir. I'm sorry; I thought you were told we'd returned."

" _Is this line secure?_ " the President asked sharply.

"Yes, sir." Canada said.

The President hummed. " _Not good enough. You can tell me what happened later. May I ask why_ _ **you**_ _are calling me? Is Alfred alright?_ "

His tone was sharp but Canada could hear the controlled fear there. He rushed to reassure the man. "Alfred is unhurt." Canada forced himself not to hesitate in his response. "I'm calling you because Alfred and I are going to return to America tomorrow and a companion of ours needs proper papers."

There was a beat of silence. " _Is your companion from_ _ **that place**_ _?_ "

The way he said it informed Canada he knew about Remnant. At least England and the others had told him about the other world that abducted his nation. Canada couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not, considering what Atlas had done. "She's from a different country from around there. It's much lovelier."  _She's not part of the group that kidnapped us. She can be trusted._

The President seemed to get the implied message. " _I see. Since you're calling_ _ **me**_ _, she wants to be an American citizen then?_ "

"Yes, sir."

The voice that responded was eerily neutral. " _ **You're**_ _asking me to create fabricated papers for someone that wishes to claim they are a citizen from_ _ **my**_ _country?_ "

Canada winced. "Yes, sir. Are you aware of the state of her home?"

" _I know how grim it is, yes._ " The President said.

It took Canada a moment to respond.  _How much does he know about Remnant? How much does_ _ **my**_ _boss know?_ "She's a soldier. She wishes to defend Alfred and become his bodyguard so we do not have this type of situation again."

" _I see._ " The President stated, no inflection in his voice. " _And why would I want a stranger— a_ _ **soldier**_ _— from a different land to defend such an important figure from my country?_ "

Canada's anger nearly bubbled to the surface. Logically, he knew the President had no reason to trust Pyrrha— the man didn't even know her name yet— but the northern nation's ire rankled at his question. Pyrrha had been forced into committing accidental murder, manipulated, lied to, unfairly ripped from her world, deposited in a new one, and thus lost everyone she knew and loved, and yet she still wanted to  _help_. Rather than stand to the side and wait for a way to return home, she wanted to use her time here to make sure Alfred was  _never_  hurt again.

"She's going to protect him whether you like it or not." Canada snapped. Recalling who he was speaking with, he balked. "Sir."

There was a nerve-wracking beat of silence before a low chuckle same through the speaker. " _You're a lot more like your brother than you think._ " The President said, amused. " _And doing something despite authority saying no? Well, that sounds American enough for me. We'll have to test her before I'll let her bodyguard Alfred, but send me the necessary information and I'll get the identification paperwork situated._ "

"Really?" Canada blurted, startled by his abrupt acceptance. "Just like that?"

The President laughed. " _Yes, just like that. You don't need to convince me. Alfred trusts your judgement. So will I._ "

A lump formed in Canada's throat. "Thank you, sir."

" _Since you will fly private, the papers won't be needed until you enter the States. I will give them to you then."_  The chuckling stopped.  _"That being said, I_ _ **know**_ _you're hiding something from me, Mister Williams. I expect to see you and Alfred after you arrive._ "

Canada's fingers wrapped around the arm of his chair and the edges of the wood bit into his skin. "Would it be possible for you to come to his mansion? You know the one. I'll give you an exact time and day once we land."

He couldn't drag America to the White House to meet his boss. Not when so many people would recognize him but he wouldn't recognize them. Unless a miracle occurred when America stepped onto his shores, he was too unaware to deal with his own politics just yet. He'd be overwhelmed, manipulated, and crushed by his own politicians, leaving him with even more trust issues than before. America was  _just_  beginning to open up to the idea that he had genuine friends whom he could trust. Canada was not about to let some sleazy politicians ruin that.

" _Very well._ " The President agreed after a pause. " _Goodbye, Mister Williams_."

"Goodbye, sir." Canada said.

He hung up and set the cellphone down with a shaking hand. That done, he slumped in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The reality of his situation slowly crashed down on him and he groaned, putting an arm over his eyes. America had amnesia, and the repercussions of that was slowly dawning on Canada. As his brother, the closest nation to the USA, and a fellow Remnant-abducted personification, it was up to  _him_  to explain what had happened to the President. America couldn't. He didn't remember the guy or almost anything about their unwanted 'adventure'. He wouldn't know what to say and what to leave out. He only remembered bits and pieces about his own nation and his personal past.

That meant Canada had to pick up the slack or let his brother flounder until he found his footing. If Canada left Alfred to his own devices, it would be like setting a newborn babe in the ocean. They'd drown before they could learn anything. He couldn't leave America to struggle and fail like that. Not only because it could prove to be catastrophic— America's government had not hesitated to take advantage of his ignorance even before all this— but because Alfred was his brother. Family didn't leave family out to dry.

_I'll never betray him again._

Canada winced, sucking in a sharp breath as pain lanced through his chest. He curled up in the chair, pressing his hands against the spot and gritting his teeth as the temperature around him plunged. Flickers of broken buildings and icy snow flickered across his vision but he shook them away, gulping as he struggled to breathe.

"I'm  _not_  Mantle." He reminded himself in a pained hiss.

The pain receded, leaving echoes of chilling cold. Canada shivered and rubbed his arms, standing from his chair. He'd better get some sleep before they had to leave tomorrow. He knew what Alfred was like in enclosed spaces. If his insistence they go outside during their first few days of isolation in the conference building were of any indication, his brother was going to be a nuisance. Canada smiled despite his incoming doom. He wouldn't have his brother any other way.

XXXXXXX

When Jaune Arc arrived in Mistral, the last place he thought he would go was the library. Yet here he sat in a corner among not-dusty tomes, poring over pristine and crinkled pages alike. The spotless condition was likely due to the librarian behind the counter, an elderly woman who looked fully prepared to stab anyone who got a single fingerprint on a page. She reminded him of a silent, black-haired version of Professor Goodwitch, a thought that made him want to chuckle and quail at the same time.

_I wonder how she's doing. Is she still in Vale trying to clean up, or has the Dragon at Beacon kept everyone away?_

This library was quiet, unlike the one back in Beacon where rambunctious teenagers took part in 'epic' battles with cards. Memories of board games, studying, and confiscated comic books prodded at Jaune's mind but he shoved them to the dark recesses of his consciousness. His eyes prickled and the pages blurred, but no wetness dripped down his cheeks. He rubbed a hand over them, took one final glance at the open book, and sighed, carefully setting it aside.

The book— about Remnant's history and the Great War in particular— said absolutely nothing about the nations that had to be present at those world-changing events. In fact, Jaune could hardly find any mention of them at all. So far, he had only found a few vague references to 'the strange advisors of the government' and 'warriors the Grimm fled from'. Their feats were often dismissed as folklore but he knew they held some truth. If only Qrow were willing to give him the full truth. He wanted answers, but the only one he knew of who knew them wasn't telling. Thus, Jaune continued his search.

He went back to a book filled with short tales of the war, where one narrator from Mistral told a story of a woman who could summon storms on command. The narrator claimed she took out his entire squadron alone, though his superiors thought the bad weather was simply unfortunate luck. The next— heavily embellished— 'story' was from a man who boasted about wrestling a giant Ursa during one of the temporary truces during a battle.

There were no more mentions of the storm-wielding woman. Jaune shut the book in disgust, the cover making a small bang as it shut. The librarian narrowed her eyes at him and Jaune ducked his head, gently setting it aside. He put his head in his hands, sighing heavily.

_I'm getting nowhere with this. I haven't found anything new. About the nations, about Salem, about Ruby, about any of it. How can I stop my friends from— stop this from happening again if I don't know what's going on?_

Jaune gritted his teeth, determined not to cry. For the thousandth time, he went over that last tragic battle, thinking of all the things he could have done differently. He could have checked the crates in the building where he and Py— where they found Cobalt Striker. He could have defeated the Nuckelavee faster, using his shield to defend as he helped Ruby take out its legs instead of simply being bait. He could have insisted that the group never split up to head to Mistral and Kuroyuri respectively. He should have stayed with Pyrrha, because maybe then—

Maybe then she wouldn't have—

Jaune pushed the books away from him and leaned his elbows on the table, breathing shakily. His lips pressed together and his entire body quivered but he couldn't let the grie— the emotions out. He wouldn't accept it, because if he did that meant, it meant—

_Pyrrha's gone._

"Lad? Are you alright?" a hesitant voice asked.

Jaune wiped at his stinging eyes hastily. "I'm fine."

He looked up to see an older man standing nearby, some books balanced in his hands. His grey hair reminded the knight of a lion's mane, and his clothes were neat and professional. A brown great coat, dress shirt, slacks, and nice shoes. It wasn't quite like anything Jaune had seen other people wear here in Mistral, though he wasn't one to talk about fashion.

Blue eyes went to the book the man carried. "Sorry. Am I in your way?"

"No, no." the man said quickly, setting his books on the table. "I just noticed you were… upset." He paused, indecision flickering through his features. "Is there anything I can do to help, young man?"

Jaune opened his mouth to say no but stopped. On second glance, the man looked kind of teacher-like. Maybe he was another librarian or something? "You wouldn't happen to know of any books about nations, would you?"

The man stilled, an odd expression crossing his face before it smoothed out. "There are plenty of books about history, yes."

"I meant nations as people." Jaune muttered.

He resisted the urge to slap himself for his lack of filter. To his surprise, the man did not look at him like he was crazy. Instead he studied the knight intently.

"How do you know of the people of the land?" he asked.

"My girlfriend died defending one." Jaune said, the words slipping out on their own.

Something inside him shattered and he lost his breath, his ribs stabbing through his lungs and heart. He bit his lip hard, barely refraining from drawing blood, and put a hand to his mouth, struggling to keep his agony inside.

_Not the place. Not the place. Not the place. Not now_ , he chanted, willing his eyes to remain dry.

"Child… I'm so sorry." The man's horrified expression strengthened Jaune's resolve, and he shoved his sorrow behind steel walls.

"It's fine." He rasped. "It's not your fault."

The man's hands clenched around his books. Noticing what he was doing, he gradually loosened his fingers. "I truly am sorry for your loss." He said, sounding like a heavy weight had fallen onto his shoulders. "Times have been rough for all of us since Beacon's fall. We… have lost many. Huntsmen, students, teachers, and civilians alike."

Jaune bowed his head, and the two sat together in silent grief. The knight wanted to ask who exactly the man had lost, but dare not to. It was not his place and maybe he was afraid to know. The sorrow and exhaustion the man exuded was almost frightening in its potency. Grief was a heavy burden to bear. After a pause, the man hesitated, then went to the shelves, pulling out multiple books. He set them down gently in front of Jaune and the knight looked at him questioningly.

"I found these to be quite helpful when I was looking for answers." The man said. He raised a shaky hand when Jaune opened his mouth. "Please do not ask why I was searching." He waited until Jaune shut his mouth to continue. "I hope they will help you, like they helped me."

Sensing the personal nature of the man's quest for answers, Jaune let it go with a nod. "Thank you." He said softly.

The man nodded back and picked up his own books. "Good luck, young man." Again, he hesitated. "I pray your heart heals someday."

"Same to you." Jaune said.

The man gave a weary chuckle. "I'm afraid I've lost too many for that."

He left before Jaune could respond. The knight made to call after him but a warning glare from the librarian stopped him. Jaune reluctantly returned to his books, his enthusiasm growing as he flipped through the pages. This was an unedited copy of the journals of the last King of Vale, and although there was no mention of the nations as people, he recognized a name immediately.

_Amber. She was that girl in the Vault. The previous Vale._

Jaune scanned a few pages and finally found a picture that confirmed it. It was a painting of the King of Vale and four others. The girl from the Vault stood at the King's right shoulder, brown eyes staring out from the page and into Jaune's soul. The intensity and wisdom of her gaze— unaffected by the faded colors of the page— were so great that Jaune almost did not notice the person beside her. At first glance, there was absolutely nothing familiar about the man at Vale's shoulder, but something about his cocky grin nagged at Jaune.

When the image did nothing more than that, he moved to the next book, which held more up-to-date sightings from the last twenty years. Vale was in the background of multiple photos, sometimes with government officials, sometimes alone. Jaune was beginning to wonder how such a book could be in a public library, but a glance at the cover showed the contents were believed to be nothing more than conspiracies.

Hidden between tales of alien abduction, underwater civilizations, and human-Grimm hybrids, no one would believe that immortal beings existed. The photos were doctored, they'd claim, while the author was seen as a conspiracy theorist at best. Jaune flipped a page that showed Vale at a diner twenty years ago, the caption claiming 'Body-stealing Aliens among us- Proof!' The author was seriously not helping his case.

_Or the book was purposely altered so no one would believe its contents._

Jaune glanced at Vale's companion briefly and froze, heart leaping into his throat. He leaned closer, studying the girl in the slightly-blurred photo, and ice-water trickled down his spine. He'd never met her before, but he'd seen an accurate sketch of her. Feliciano had drawn it in Higanbana after Alfred's captors' identities had been revealed, to ensure all of them knew what their enemies looked like.

She was the girl Yang fought on the train. She was the one Ruby lost an eye to. She was the one who had abducted Alfred and dragged him across Anima, abandoning him and leaving him to wander into Tyrian and Emerald's trap.  _Neo_  sat with Vale in a picture from almost twenty years ago, and she looked  _exactly the same age_  as she did today.

_Neo's a nation._


	4. The Next Move

"Are you sure?" Qrow asked solemnly.

Jaune felt a burst of irritation at his question but he took a breath, keeping the anger under control. "As I can be. You saw the picture. Once Ruby's awake we can confirm it's her."

He glanced from the open book to the where Ruby still slept, quickly drawing his eyes away. It had taken surprisingly little coaxing to get the librarian to let him borrow the book. Maybe it was the hysterical look in his eyes that convinced her to let him go. Either way, Jaune had taken the evidence straight to Qrow and his team, hoping to get more information from the Huntsman. The man wasn't exactly being forthcoming but the remnants of Team Juniper were less willing to be kept out of the loop this time.

"So which one is she?" Nora asked bluntly.

"If I had to take a guess, I'd say she's Mistral." Qrow said after some thought. "If she were Vacuo, she'd go there when things went south, not spend time dragging Vale across Anima."

_His name was_ _ **Alfred**_ , Jaune thought angrily. Then Qrow's words fully registered. "You aren't sure which one she is?" he demanded, surprised.

"If Neo truly is a nation, how did you not know about her?" Ren added.

Qrow leaned back, sighing heavily. "Mistral is a special case. So is Vacuo, in a way. Their identities are both unknown to us. Even Oz didn't have a clue. For Vacuo, it happens sometimes. The loose system they call a 'government' there doesn't keep an eye out for reincarnations of their nation, content to wait for them to show up on their doorstep one day. Once that happens, the Headmaster of Shade Academy informs Oz. It's been eighteen years since the last Vacuo vanished and the new one hasn't revealed him or herself yet."

Jaune nodded in acceptance. Qrow had already told them flat-out that Francis was not Vacuo, despite Emerald's claims he was. Jaune did not know how Emerald and Tyrian got that false information, though he supposed it did not matter anymore. Thinking of Francis made his heart climb into his throat so he pushed thoughts of the man and their other fallen friends away, focusing on the present.

"And Mistral?" Jaune pressed.

Qrow took a hefty swig from his flask. "Mistral is damn near impossible to locate. Ever since the Great War, the Mistral Council and other officials have refused to believe the nations exist, not even their own.  _Especially_  not their own. I don't know if it's stubbornness and pride because they feel Mistral lost them the war, a law those idiots feel no need to change, or a curse. Either way, they deny their representative's existence. We haven't been able to find Mistral since the war."

"Apparently Vale found her and chose not to tell you. Imagine that." Jaune said snidely.

Qrow ignored his tone. "No matter Vale's reasoning, her discretion helped in the long run. We didn't know where Mistral was, but neither did Salem."

"Except she does now." Nora said. "Remember? That Tyrian guy said he had the location of Mistral."

A heavy silence fell over them.

Qrow swore. "Dammit."

"It might not be as bad as it sounds." Ren assured them calmly. "They know Mistral's location, but maybe not her identity."

"I doubt that." Qrow growled. "They have contacts in Mistral. Anyone could have picked up this book and figured out Roman Torchwick's little sidekick Neo was Mistral. If they knew before Beacon, the Relic would be gone already, but we need to assume they know now."

"Which Relic is in Haven?" Jaune asked.

"Knowledge." Qrow replied. "Shade has Destruction, Atlas has Creation, and Beacon has Choice."

The irony of the last one was not lost on Jaune and he scoffed. "Vale's Relic is Choice, huh? How fitting. So what do we do?"

Qrow glanced towards his niece's room and grimaced. "We give Ruby one more day to wake up. If she isn't conscious by tomorrow, we have to meet Leo— Haven's Headmaster— without her. Neo wouldn't go to the capital, which means she's likely in Wind Path or Kuchinashi."

Nora's aqua eyes brightened. "Fantastic! We can search the cities, ask around a bit, kick some butt, and—"

Qrow shook his head, silencing her. "It's not that easy. Both cities are hives for criminal activity. As people on the correct side of the law, we won't have the connections to locate a criminal in a city of criminals."

The word reminded Jaune of everything terrible Neo had done to his friends, Beacon, the city of Vale, and Remnant in general. His anger spiked.

"How the hell is Mistral's personification such a monster?" he blurted. "She nearly killed Yang, she took Ruby's eye,  _and_  she kidnapped Alfred."

Qrow grimaced, lifted his flask, and sighed upon realizing it was empty. "Not all the personifications are nice like Vale. They reflect their people, but their personality is all their own. The Faunus in Menagerie can be the nicest folks you've ever met, but I've heard their personification is a violent piece of work. If Neo is Mistral, I wouldn't be surprised to hear the messed-up state of her Kingdom's underground drove her crazy, and her government's denial of her existence probably didn't help matters."

"She  _hurt Ruby_." Nora echoed Jaune's earlier words. "Aren't you angry?"

"Of course I am." Qrow growled, red eyes flashing. "But I know my mission. If Neo falls into enemy hands, we could lose the Relic of Knowledge,  _and_  possibly Haven Academy and the city."

"So you're saying we have to find Neo… and protect her from Salem's forces." Jaune felt bile rise in his throat at the very thought.

Qrow smirked, no amusement in his expression. "That's what it means to protect the world, kid. You have to do things you don't like." He glanced Ruby's way again and sighed. "When Ruby wakes up, leave it to me to tell her about all of this."

The distant look in his eyes showed he was speaking as an uncle, not a superior, so Jaune merely nodded. He did not envy the man. Even with her loving heart, Ruby would be hard-pressed to accept that they might have to protect the one who took part in Beacon's fall, maimed her, and nearly murdered her sister. In fact, Jaune couldn't say Ruby  _would_  accept it. Heroes didn't protect bad guys, after all.

_This is getting complicated. The world isn't as black and white as it was in school._

Qrow stood up and stretched, cracking his shoulders. "Now that we've got a plan, I need a damn drink. Don't call me unless Ruby wakes up."

"You going to tell us what happened to her yet?" Jaune challenged.

"Nope."

Qrow strode out the door before any of them could protest. The three teenagers stared at the closed door and sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Nora released a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping visibly.

"You know… this isn't what I thought our heroic journey to save the world would be like." she murmured.

Ren put a comforting hand on her shoulder, leaving an empty space between them, and all Jaune could see was the person who was not there.

The knight clenched his fists and sighed. "I don't think any of us did."

XXXXXXX

Germany still wouldn't wake up.

Neither would Prussia.

Italy had not expected them too, but he had hoped they'd be okay by now. They had been unconscious for days, but at least they were recovering. Germany's arm was growing back. His bicep was nearly fully formed, and England estimated his whole arm would be regrown in another week. The Brit didn't say it aloud, but Italy knew it was only taking so long because of the magic involved in the portal. Magic whose rules and possible consequences Italy had been warned about but ignored.

"Oi, bastard!" A plate of pasta was shoved under Italy's nose. "I made you this."

The despondent Italian took the plate and slowly looked up at his big brother. Romano scowled back, jabbing a finger at the spaghetti. "You gonna eat that or not?"

"Yes. Thanks, big brother." Italy mumbled.

He quietly ate the food without his usual enthusiasm, feeling his brothers eyes on him the entire time. When he was done, he set the plate on the bedside table, knowing better than to hand it to Romano and expect him to do something with it. To his surprise, Romano didn't leave, instead standing just behind Italy as he studied Germany and Prussia's silent forms, expression unreadable. Then he scoffed.

"You need to stop moping around like a sissy." Romano growled. "The potato bastard is going to be fine. Stop acting like he's dead."

Italy flinched.

Romano huffed and crossed his arms, scowl clear on his face. "What I don't understand is why you went on this damn mission. You're not a fighter."

" _Germany, Germany! Can I go too?"_

" _Let me come, Germany. I want to help rescue America and Canada."_

" _I promise I'll help, Germany. You can count on me!"_

Italy clenched his fists, his own words echoing in his head. "I was selfish. I went with them to show Germany I could be useful and brave like him. Instead I ruined everything." he choked.

"Stop thinking so highly of yourself." Romano sniffed. "You're not capable enough to be responsible for everything that went wrong."

Italy didn't hear his backhanded encouragement. "I  _am_. It's my fault. I'm the one who was scared so I attracted all those Grimm!"

Romano stared at him, visibly startled. "You attracted the  _what?_ "

Realizing his mistake, Italy grabbed at his hair. "And I'm doing it again! I'm messing up everything!"

Romano watched him mutely, biting his lip as his brother cried. He sighed audibly. "I can't believe you're making me do this you son of a bitch." Romano muttered. He sat angrily in the chair beside Italy and glared at him. "Did you hurt Germany?"

"Yes. I pulled him through the portal when he was unconscious. England warned me not to do that." Italy said miserably.

Romano muttered a few curses and tried again. "Well, what would've happened if you didn't do that?"

Images of red eyes, black fur, and sharp teeth flashed through Italy's mind. "Germany would've been taken." he whispered, shuddering.

"So you saved him." Romano stated. "He was hurt, but he'll recover. If you hadn't saved him he'd be in enemy hands." He hesitated. "And you should know by now that you don't need to impress the bastard, Feli. He likes you already."

Italy blinked at him, with teary eyes, slowly processing what he said. Slowly, he smiled and launched himself at his brother. "Thank you, Lovino!"

"Don't touch me, you bastard!" Romano spluttered.

He tried to shove Italy away, but the younger brother didn't mind. Romano was right. Germany would not be upset with Italy, who had stayed with him during the battle no matter how much he wanted to run away. It was still Italy's fault for getting Germany and Prussia hurt, but he had done the best he could in those circumstances, and because of him the brothers were back home, on Earth, instead of being dragged to a Grimm's lair or Salem.

Italy hugged Romano tighter, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't shaking. He was so glad to be home. Remnant was a nightmare. The Grimm were terrifying, and the world took  _so much_  from so many of them. America lost himself, Canada and England almost lost their brother, and Italy nearly lost Germany and Prussia to the Grimm.

He was glad Romano didn't know about any of that. He was glad that Earth was so safe by comparison. If Earth ever became like that scary world, Italy was not sure if he could cope. Whenever he fell asleep, his nights were filled with the screams of the people of Vale as the Grimm invaded their city's streets, with Tyrian's laughter as he tried to kill Prussia, Germany, and France, with the roar of flames as they devoured Kuroyuri. Italy would take the scariness of Earth any day compared to the horrors created by Salem and her cohorts.

Germany was hurt because of Italy's stupid mistake, but he was home. They all were. So Italy would listen to Romano. He would cope, not mope.

Though a part of him wished he could just forget it all.

XXXXXXX

America rubbed at his eyepatch irritably as he walked, only to get his hand smacked away by Canada. He pouted at his violet-eyed brother, prodding him in the shoulder. "Mean."

"You shouldn't rub it." Canada scolded.

"But it's annoying." America complained. "Why do I have to wear it?"

"Because people will notice things and ask questions. Especially if your eye starts to  _glow_." Canada reminded him firmly.

"But my other eye glows too." America whined.

"Not as often as your left one." Canada's hand snapped out, grabbing America's wrist lightly as he raised his arm towards the eyepatch. " _No_."

America huffed. "Pyrrha, Mattie's being mean."

The champion chuckled lightly, hiding her smile behind her hand. "How cruel of him." She said, solemn tone contrasted by her tiny grin.

"Don't enable him." Canada groaned. "We're going to be stuck in a small cabin with him for hours."

"Py-Py finds me too amusing to stop me. Sucks for you." America crowed.

"This is why I don't go on trips with you." Canada sulked.

"You know you love me, bro." America chirped.

"Yes I do,  _bro_." Canada mimicked his accent mercilessly. "Unfortunately." He muttered under his breath.

The genuine— though sarcastically delivered— affection made America's eyes grow watery but he blinked the forming tears away. No need to get emotional over simple, real, not-a- _lie_  care. He was tougher than that. He looked ahead towards their destination, visible blue eye lighting up upon spotting their transport.

"Cool! That's our plane?"

"Yes." Canada said stiffly, as if he were bracing himself.

America grinned. "Can I fly—?"

"No." his brother stated.

America drooped. "Awwwww…."

Pyrrha coughed suspiciously. "We will be the only ones on the aircraft, correct?"

"Yes, it's a private plane sent specifically for us." Canada informed her.

America thought about that, tapping his foot. "Those are more expensive. Do we usually fly private?"

"It depends on the circumstances." Canada admitted. "For personal stuff and normal meetings we usually fly public, but we fly private if we need to get somewhere in a hurry or…" He trailed off.

"Or if a certain personification has amnesia and can't risk going on a public plane, and his friend doesn't have proper paperwork yet?" America finished, only partially joking.

Canada cringed.

"That was a joke, bro." America said quickly even though it really wasn't. "Self-depreciation is funny. Haha."

"Right." His brother said, lips thinned.

"Does the plane have any weapons?" Pyrrha asked, changing the subject.

"No. They're not necessary. And it's civilian." Canada explained.

"I see. It will be strange to be able to fly without fear of being attacked by Grimm." Pyrrha admitted, though she did not appear as confident as her words implied.

"If something not-Grimm from here fights us we can take it out." America reassured her. He flicked his fingers for emphasis, remembering just in time not to create any lightning between his fingertips.

Canada noticed the familiar movements. His eye twitched. "Alfred, if we are ambushed  _please_  don't blast our enemies from the sky."

"Why not?" America questioned. "Freak lightning storm. No one will think twice about it. And they'd have attacked first!"

Canada put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it furiously. "We  _won't_  get attacked."

"You don't know that." America and Pyrrha said at the same time.

They looked at each other. The twin could hear his brother muttering angrily under his breath in what was probably French if his limited research was accurate, his agitation slowly mounting. If Alfred wasn't mistaken, the temperature was dropping as well. Mattie was such a hypocrite.

America wisely chose to drop the topic. "So why aren't we being swamped by nations? They were eager to try to see me at first." He held up a hand when Canada opened his mouth. "Don't deny it. I heard the others scaring them away."

"We told them you were still recovering and would probably attack them if they tried to give you a surprise visit." Canada informed him reluctantly. "They've been giving you room."

America's eyes narrowed, his left one burning slightly behind his eyepatch. "Do they think I'm weakened?"

Canada didn't notice the intensity behind his question. "No. Merely needing some rest back home."

"Hm." America grunted.

"What about the ones who were… with us when we came back?" Pyrrha asked hesitantly. She scanned the empty yard. "I expected Arthur and Francis at least."

"They're in the conference." Canada said dismissively. "It's not something they can simply miss to say good—"

"Alfred-kun!"

America slowed down and turned to see a black-haired nation— Japan, if America remembered right— running towards him. Japan halted in front of him, breathing a little heavily as if he had run a long distance. Once he'd caught his breath, he straightened and bowed quickly.

"Alfred-kun, I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment." He requested.

America hesitated. They were in an open, public area, and Canada and Pyrrha would be nearby. Surely there would be no harm in it? Alfred glanced at his brother and held out his bag.

"Can you take this on board?" he requested.

Canada's gaze flicked to Japan but he accepted the luggage. "Of course. Don't take too long."

America and Japan watched them board the plane and an awkward silence hung over them. Japan seemed like the quiet type by nature, but America could tell even he found the lack of conversation uncomfortable. Before America could try to break the ice, his companion spoke.

"You are leaving?" Japan asked.

"Er, yeah. We're heading to America." Alfred said.

"I see." Japan frowned. "I was informed you would depart later today."

_The others must have said that to keep the nations from trying to talk to me_ , Alfred realized. "Sorry I didn't tell you." he said, not quite sure if he meant it. "So what do you need?"

"I came to say goodbye, of course." Japan told him. He paused, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I am supposed to be in the meeting right now."

America blinked. "Are you saying you skipped out on the conference to say bye to me?"

Japan's ears turned red. "Yes."

America nodded slowly, struggling to withhold a snort. Unable to contain himself, he burst out laughing. "Dude, that's  _awesome_!"

"Is it?" Japan asked, torn between amusement and mortification.

"Definitely." America cackled. "I can't believe this.  _You're_  playing hooky! It's such a not-you thing to do, haha! You're  _so_  going to get lectured, Kiku."

Japan smiled. Despite it only being a slight upturn of his lips, it lit up his face, making him seem thousands of years younger. "I'm glad you find joy in my future suffering, Alfred-kun."

"Of course, dude." America sniggered. "As your friend, it's my job to laugh at your inconvenience." His mirth faded as solemnity took hold and he looked Japan straight in the eyes. "Are we really friends?" He asked bluntly.

"Yes." Japan stated, no hesitation in his voice.

"I believe you." America admitted.

Brown eyes softened. "What happened to make you have such little faith in my claim?"

America winced.

Japan quickly backtracked. "I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you."

"You didn't." America reassured him. "And I know this is late, but sorry for being so snippy when you mentioned we were friends earlier."

"You are forgiven." Japan informed him calmly. "I can tell you have been hurt."

America grimaced but quickly covered it up with a smile. "Seriously, though. You'll give me a full rundown of the chewing-out you get, right?"

"Of course." Japan said gravely. "I would not dare deprive you of such entertainment." He held out his hand. "May I input my phone number into your cell?"

"Sure." America handed him the device.

Japan went to the contacts and paused, brow furrowing. "My number is already here."

"Really?" America took the phone back, looking at the name that was pulled up.  _Kiku Honda._  "Huh. Weird. Mattie must've put it in or something." He looked behind him to see his brother standing in the entrance to the plane, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. "Someone's impatient. I'd better get going. See you soon?"

Japan readily bumped fists with him. "I will come to your house as soon as I can." Hesitation flashed across his stoic features. "If I will not be intruding, of course."

"You're always welcome, Kiku." America said warmly. A loud cough sounded behind him and he rolled his eyes. "I'd better go before Mattie has an aneurysm."

"Indeed." Japan said solemnly. "Goodbye, my friend."

"Bye."

America ran onto the plane and found a nice seat by the window— only after being barred from the cockpit by Canada, the party-pooper. As the roar of the engines started up, he spotted the lone figure on the ground and waved, smiling as Japan waved back. The other nation kept waving until the plane lifted off, leaving the airport and ascending into the clear blue sky.

America slumped in his chair, taking a deep breath, and met Pyrrha's eyes. She briefly smiled at him before looking away, attention turning to a book Canada had given her for the trip. Feeling purple eyes on him, America turned to his own distraction, content to leave Canada in peace for a couple hours before bringing annoying sibling hell upon him.

They were on their way to America.


	5. Deeper into Conspiracies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a triple update! (I really want this to catch up to the fanfic one okay? XD)

"Blasted meeting was a waste of my time." England snarled.

He slammed his car door shut with far more force than necessary, causing the vehicle to shudder in protest. On the other side, France winced, releasing his door handle and shaking his hand to rid himself of the jolt it had received. He closed the car door with much more grace than England before hurrying around the car and walking at the Brit's side.

"Now, I know you can be boorish, Arthur, but there is no need to take out your anger on the poor vehicle." He chided. "This is a rental, remember."

England ignored him and stalked down the sidewalk towards their destination, muttering angrily under his breath. "We accomplished  _nothing_. Three hours trapped with those wankers and every single second of it was spent  _bickering_."

"It has always been like that, mon ami." France reminded him. "Though I agree that it was…  _odd_  to return to such trivial matters after what we've been through." His fingers twitched, briefly brushing his back before falling to his side. "Personally, I am happy they focused on arguing and matters of a more inconsequential nature. We should be grateful they have not pushed us for answers yet."

"Hmph." England grunted disagreeably. He halted outside the Polizia di Stato— the State Police— headquarters, frowning in distaste.

France stopped at his side, glancing between the Englishman and the building with a raised eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm merely calming myself." England grunted, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to storm into the building and get arrested. That would not be pleasant to explain to his boss. "They'd better let us see that man."

"That is why we are here." France confirmed lightly. "And please, keep trying to lower your blood pressure. I would hate for you to join that mugger in the cells."

"What mugger?"

England and France jumped, reaching for weapons that weren't there and whirling around to face the speaker. Romano glared back at them, arms crossed and face set in a scowl. One foot tapped the ground irritably, and his scowl deepened.

" _What_  mugger?" he repeated.

"What are you doing here?" England demanded.

"Following you, bastards." Romano scoffed. "You think I wouldn't notice when you snuck out? Now answer my damn question."

England drew himself up, meeting Romano's glare with one of his own. "It is nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Rather than recoil or flee like he was wont to do, Romano's eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, jabbing England in the chest. "Don't you pull that bullshit with me. You're not leaving me out, you bastards. The last time you did, Feliciano came back as a wreck!"

France pushed between them, brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Feliciano hasn't been eating or sleeping. He blames himself for whatever happened to the potato bastard." Romano snapped. His lips parted, showing bared teeth. "Too busy worrying about Alfred to notice?"

England flinched.  _America doesn't remember me he doesn't trust me he hates me he—_

The Brit forced his emotions back under wraps and inclined his head. "I suppose we were. I apologize."

"I tried talking to Feli but I don't know shit." Romano said coldly, not accepting the apology. "I can't tell if he's pretending to be better or is deluding himself into thinking he is. So you two either need to talk to him, or tell me what the hell is going on so I can help the idiot." Something in Romano's expression softened just a tiny bit. "And speaking of idiots… Alfred's my friend too, you know."

 _That's right. Romano lived with him for a time._  That did not make England any more willing to tell Romano the whole story. He was about to inform the Italian of that when France leaned close and whispered in England's ear. "I think we should tell him."

"No." England denied. "Too many already know and we still owe Austral— Jett an explanation."

"Romano will not seek vengeance on Atlas or wish to harm Alfred." France told him bluntly. "His brother is suffering from what happened. He should know the truth." Blue eyes narrowed and France gave the killing blow. "What if it was Alfred in Feliciano's place?"

England's fist clenched but he refrained from punching France in the face. "Fine." He spat. "We'll tell you later. For now, we need to get into the building and interrogate the man who tried to mug Alfred. He might be associated with the organization that took him."

"I thought you said they were no longer a threat." Romano hissed. He abruptly drew back and huffed, glaring at the wall behind England. "I guess you'll tell me later. Fine. I'll get us in. They know me."

"As a government official or a criminal?" England muttered.

Romano glared daggers at him. "Government official, you bastard."

The personification of South Italy led the way into the police station. After a short, rapid conversation in Italian with a policeman behind the front desk, and a quick showing of their IDs, the man led them to an interrogation room in the station, leaving them behind the one-way glass.

France clasped his hands together and smiled. "How should we play this? Bad cop, angry cop, beautiful cop?"

"It depends on how much English the bastard knows." Romano grunted. "He might only know a few phrases."

"Then I suppose we'll have to leave a majority of the interrogation to you." England said, not happy about that fact in the least.

A man was led into the interrogation room and shoved into a chair, his handcuffs attached to his seat. England took a moment to study him, taking in blond hair, blue eyes, a firm jaw, and thick eyebrows. His shoulders stiffened and Romano cursed.

"He's not one of mine." The Italian stated.

"He's British." England finished.

France's face darkened. "I do believe our hunches may be correct then. Shall we?"

The three walked into the interrogation room, first Romano, then England, and finally France. The man glanced at them and England observed his expressions more carefully. He appeared confident, but with the slightest bit of tension in his posture, the idle twitches of his hands suggesting he was testing the durability of the cuffs around his wrists.

He did not exude fear or apathy, the former of which irked England and the latter of which he was glad for. If the man were afraid he'd be easier to squeeze for information and they'd be out of that room within the hour. But if the 'mugger' was completely in control, calculating and cold as he eyed his interrogators, then they'd likely be dealing with a professional killer of some sort. Unless the man was acting— and England would like to think he'd be able to tell if he was— then he was somewhere in the middle, neither a cowardly thief nor a cold-blooded assassin.

Romano said something in Italian, and the man responded in kind. This went on for a few minutes, and although England recognized a couple words, he did not hear his, France, Romano, or America's human names mentioned. Good.

His patience quickly dwindled as they continued to speak in Italian, with Romano's stern expression growing stiffer, indicating the man was not being forthcoming. Finally, England grew tired of waiting and scoffed. "You cannot deceive us. We know you're English."

The man stared at him 'uncomprehendingly' but, upon meeting England's level glare, sighed. "You caught me. It was fun while it lasted." He leaned onto the table, posture annoyingly unbothered, and England wondered how this man could be one of his. "I don't know why you're here. I was bang to rights and already confessed to everything. I'll be out in a few weeks."

"I don't think so." England said icily. "Were you aware you assaulted an American government official?"

The slight flinch indicated he was not. Then his easy, casual arrogance was back and he shrugged. "So that's why you government bizzies are here."

 _He's from Liverpool or Merseyside_ , England thought.  _Unless he's faking_ _ **that**_ _accent as well._

"Indeed. See, that crime is a bit more serious than mugging a tourist. Here are your choices, my friend. You can either tell us everything you know and receive a lighter sentence, or rot in jail for impersonating an Italian citizen and mugging an American government official. Although…" England tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your attack could be seen as an assassination attempt. I do believe that the death penalty is still a viable punishment here, yes?"

England knew for a fact that no, it wasn't for anything except extreme crimes like experimenting on a nation but the man was apparently unaware. The prisoner paled drastically. "I'm no assassin. I'm a con man for hire."

"Con men usually do not threaten their marks with guns." Romano sneered.

"I'm flexible." The con man said with a smirk. England had never wanted to punch a citizen of his in the face more. The con man noticed his expression and his grin vanished. "This job's more trouble than it is worth." He muttered. "Fine. Whadaya wanna know?"

Again his accent switched, this time to a native of Brooklyn, New York. England's irritation flared but he kept himself in check. The man was likely doing it on purpose, whether to annoy them or throw them off he could not say.

"Who employed you?" England demanded.

"Straightforward lad, ain't ya?" the con man said, switching to a Scottish accent.

His condescending tone nearly destroyed England's control but France placed a restraining hand on his arm. The Frenchman smiled at the conman. "He is. Please pardon my friend's rudeness. He's had a rough day."

"Haven't we all." The conman said, sounding sincerely sympathetic. England knew it was an act.

"Enough chatter. Answer our questions, bastard." Romano broke in, patience running thin.

The conman smiled politely at him, posture shifting, and he gave off an almost gentlemanly persona. "I will receive a shorter sentence and none of this will be on record?"

England and France glanced to Romano, who grumbled lowly but nodded.

"Agreed." France said.

The conman leaned back in his chair. "Like I said, I'm the occasional conman for hire. I get money for myself, but I'm willing to extend my services to others. Sell a special product, sell a "special" product, and 'information' brokering is my usual fare, but sometimes I like to shake things up a bit. Rather than a professional conman, think of me as a professional  _humiliator_  for hire."

He grinned. "The rich are the pettiest lot. I've often been asked to mug cheating wives when they're out with their boy toys, distract business rivals so they miss a very important meeting, and leave a man with nothing but his underwear. Depending on the contract, I get to keep the nice jewels and moolah, though if my employer wishes to receive the goods, I'm greatly compensated."

"So someone hired you to target the American." France said, nodding almost amicably. England could see the angry quiver in his hands, which he kept under the table and out of the conman's sight.

"Yeah." The conman said, accent switching back to that of a New Yorker from Brooklyn. "A few days ago I was contacted by a backer through email. Told me my mark and the details of the job. Gave me a script and everything. Was very specific that I threaten him and shoot  _at_  him but not hurt him. Wouldn't have agreed if they said ta kill him."

"What a morally upstanding individual you are." England snarled, unable to contain his disgust any longer.

The conman shrugged. "I don't kill. Con, terrify, and humiliate, yes. But not kill."

"You almost  _shot him_." England spat.

"I had it under control until that fire-haired broad tackled me." The conman scoffed, unapologetic.

"Where is your computer?" France asked before England could lose control and strangle the man.

"Like I'd give it to—" The conman recalled his situation and reconsidered his words. "At home. I'll give you the address and the password. Good luck finding my backer. People who contact me don't want to be identified."

"Too bad." England muttered as he handed the man a paper and pen.

He wasn't about to let the conman's 'backer' get away with this. He'd find the bastard, even if it took a hundred years. The conman wrote down the information, including his name and address. England had a feeling he only gave it so willingly because it was not his only identity. Once he was out of prison, they wouldn't be able to find him again. It was only through luck that they caught him at all.

_Was his 'employer' expecting America to be alone?_

With a final agreement to speak with the necessary parties to lessen the conman's sentence, the nations walked out of the interrogation room. Romano nodded to the policemen outside and they went inside to retrieve the prisoner and bring him back to his cell. As he trailed behind France and Romano, England felt a burst of frustration that was barely mitigated by the lingering fear squeezing his heart. They hadn't learned as much as England wanted to from the 'mugger', though they did have one important piece of information sorted out. Their theory was correct. Someone had purposely targeted America.

But who?

XXXXXXX

"Are we there yet?" America asked.

Canada stared at him. "Are you serious? We're landing. You  _know_  that we're landing. You can  _see_  that we're landing!"

America glanced out the window, taking in the sight of the approaching ground, looked back at his brother, and blinked innocently. "Are we there yet?"

"For the  _love of Maple…_ " Canada hissed.

America sniggered. Oh, how  _easy_  it was to rile his twin up. Then again, poor Mattie had been stuck with him in a plane for hours with no means of escape. They'd only landed long enough to refuel, not allowing Pyrrha or America time to see the sights— or let anyone see them— and America had soon grown bored with his books and idle chatter and started pestering Canada. Pyrrha's tiny smiles— which she tried and failed to hide behind the cover of the history book she was reading— only encouraged Alfred in his endeavor and so he'd been asking Canada purposely childish and inane questions for about four hours now.

Canada knew exactly what his twin was doing and had tried to ignore him at first, but America's persistence had not vanished with his memories. In other words, trying to ignore him was like trying to ignore a neon orange elephant dancing on a couch. Canada hadn't lost his temper and screamed at him yet, but America was determined to break him before they reached freedom. It was his duty as an annoying sibling to do so, and his honor was on the line.

Plus he was bored. And  _maybe_  Canada had chided him for wanting a hamburger and prattled on about healthier alternatives. America couldn't forgi— forget that. He wasn't partaking in petty vengeance, no siree. He was totally above such childish things. But irritating his brother was fair game.

With a light shudder, the plane landed smoothly on the pavement, slowly decelerating to a stop. The engines winded down, and the pilot informed them it was safe to exit.

America slowly turned to Canada and smirked. "Are we—"

" _Are you seriously doing this right now?!_ " Canada exploded.

"Yup." America said cheerfully. "Made you shout." He held out his hand to Pyrrha.

The champion sighed and shook his hand firmly. "I'll buy you five burgers, as promised."

"You made a  _bet_  on me?" Canada spluttered, scandalized.

America smirked. "Yup. Pyrrha here didn't believe I could make you raise your voice."

"You're usually so quiet and calm outside of battle." The champion informed the violet-eyed twin.

"What was your reward if you won?" Canada asked warily.

"He offered to buy me five sandwiches." Pyrrha said solemnly, a twinkle in her eyes.

"You made a bet on me for a  _sandwich_?" Canada squeaked.

"Five." Pyrrha smiled sweetly and shrugged. "Alfred was very persuasive. And I admit I was slightly bored." She glanced at her book— titled 'History and Cultures of the World'— and wrinkled her nose slightly.

Canada put his head in his hands. "Alfred, stop corrupting Pyrrha."

"It's not corruption. It's called having fun." America said.  _Pyrrha looked like she could use some_ , he thought but didn't say.

He hated not knowing the boundaries between him and the champion. Was it okay for him to ask why she stared at her book with glassy eyes or were they not that close? America knew they were friends, but were they the kind that cried on each other's shoulders or was Pyrrha simply the type to wish to defend even her most distant comrades. America hated having to navigate around those missing pieces that explained their friendship, so he'd done what he hoped wouldn't alienate her and found a way to make her less despondent. And bug Canada.

Had Mattie truly not noticed the tears in her eyes as she huddled in the corner of the cabin?

"You're insufferable." Canada groaned.

"Why thank you." America laughed.

He stood up and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, careful not to jostle it too much. The Dust vials hadn't exploded during turbulence but he didn't want to take any chances. As he descended down the stairs from the plane behind Pyrrha and Canada, America looked to his companions and wondered how they carried their Dust cartridges. He'd have to bring it up to them later.

One step before touching the ground, America halted, glancing around. The private airstrip did not look much different than the one in Italy. It didn't feel different either and Alfred's heart squeezed. He was in his country but he felt the same. What if Canada was wrong? What if he wasn't really America?

Pyrrha and Mattie noticed his pause and stopped as well, looking back. America resisted the instinct to adopt a polite, disinterested look and planted on a smile, showing none of his insecurities. They'd start to question why he wasn't moving so he forced his foot forward, hoping and praying that he'd feel  _something_  to let him know he wasn't a fraud.

America stepped off the stair and everything was  _right_. Like a floodgate had been opened, he felt  _them_. His people. A man played guitar on a street corner. A woman shopped with her children. An elderly couple sat side by side, gazing out at over emerald fields. Workers labored, created, and destroyed. A politician gave speeches and promises. Protesters didn't believe him.

There were teachers, managers, retail workers, doctors, hairdressers, scientists, researchers, historians, mechanics, engineers, cooks, and so many other professionals. There were those with money, those without, those at the fragile balance in between. Different races, different customs, different languages and cultures. There was good and bad, justice and corruption, truth and dishonesty, and all the shades of grey they entailed. There was a melting pot of so many different people, and they were all  _his_.

_This is where I belong._

America broke out of his overwhelmed daze and noticed Canada looking at him worriedly. "You okay, Al?" his twin asked.

America nodded. "Yeah. Never better."

"You're crying." Pyrrha mentioned.

America touched his cheek, startled by the wetness he found there. He brushed at his eyes hastily. "Tears of joy." he claimed. "I'm happy to not be stuck in a small cabin with Mattie anymore."

" _You're_  the nuisance." Canada reminded him affectionately. "Now come on. Let's get you home."

"Home." America whispered, grinning from ear to ear. "Sounds great."

XXXXXXX

The world was dark.

Then it wasn't.

Ruby considered the tan expanse above her in befuddlement. She squinted at the grooves and divots in the surface, and slowly came to the conclusion that she was looking at a ceiling. She was not one to recognize ceilings on sight, but she certainly had not seen this one before. It had a pattern that was all swirly. Huh. The fog in her pounding skull lifted slightly and she gained the awareness to want to take in more of her surroundings. She managed to make her neck muscles work and turned her head, peering at the white figure beside her.

"…Jaune?"

"Ruby!" The knight jerked in his chair, book falling from his lap in his hurry to lean over her. "You're awake!"

His smile was blinding white and Ruby winced, closing her eye. She heard Jaune's worried questions and batted at his arm wearily. "Stop that. I'm fine. Give me a sec."

Her friend went silent, shifting his arm in order to grasp her hand and give it a light squeeze. Ruby pressed his fingers, took a breath, and opened her eye again. The world was much clearer and less painful now, the ache behind her eye receding to a tolerable pain.

"What happened?" she asked. "Did I get hit by an Ursa?" She didn't feel like she got hit by an Ursa. Other than her eye, nothing hurt. She felt fine, if a little bit muddled, like she was forgetting something important.

"…You don't remember?" Something in Jaune's tone made her stiffen.

Ruby wracked her brain, smiling as she pulled up memories. "We were in Kuroyuri. I talked to Ludwig—" Jaune flinched. "And we found Alfred. He was being held hostage by Tyrian and Emerald and we fought them and—"

_The explosion._

Ruby sat up. "Did you find Pyrrha and the others?"

Jaune avoided her gaze, blue eyes suspiciously bright. "No."

"We need to go looking for them then." Ruby said firmly. She looked around the empty room, spotting Crescent Rose leaning against the wall. "How long was I out?"

Jaune's expression twisted. "Ruby—"

"I'm sorry I was out so long and couldn't help look." Ruby apologized, voice steady because  _nothing was wrong_.

"Ruby—"

"Let me—" she glanced down at the pajamas she had been dressed in, fingers twitching. "Let me just change and we can continue searching—"

" _Ruby!_ " Jaune thundered, silencing her. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "They're gone."

Ruby couldn't breathe. The air froze in her chest as scattered memories ripped through her mind. She remembered the ground shaking beneath her as a deafening boom tore through the air. She remembered racing through Grimm-filled streets and stumbling to charred rubble. She remembered finding a burnt circlet and shield in the wreckage.

Her eye burned.

Arms wrapped around her and she recognized Nora's strong hold. The orange-haired girl's lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. Ruby's eye stayed dry. She stared past Nora at Ren, whose calm façade cracked, agony showing through his trembling jaw. She couldn't look at Jaune. She couldn't bear to see his grief too. Because if she did, her rapidly-constructed walls would shatter into a million pieces.

 _They're all dea— gone. Just like mom. We… We failed th—_ She drew in a harsh breath and exhaled, gripping her blankets with her fingers.  _Don't cry now. Later. Everything's fine._

She shoved her grief as far down as she could, burying it under other, more 'important' things. They were in Mistral. They had a mission to complete. There wasn't time to grieve, she told herself. She'd think later, she promised herself. Focus on the mission like a good Huntress would, she ordered herself.

Because the alternative would be dealing with the harsh reality, and she  _couldn't_.

_We failed them. They died because of us._

Someone knocked on the door.

Grateful for the distraction, Ruby turned on the bed, planting her feet on the floor in preparation to rise. "I'll get it."

"No!" Jaune, Nora, and Ren shouted at once.

Ruby flinched but said nothing as Nora shifted so she was between Ruby and the door. Jaune rose to his feet and unsheathed his sword. He stood next to the door and eased it open, ready to dodge at a moment's notice. No attack came, and the door swung aside to reveal a boy younger than Ruby. His hazel and green eyes peered up at the taller teen from under black bangs and he balked at Jaune's expression.

"Is t-this a bad time?" he stammered.

Jaune's cold look softened slightly. "No. I'm sorry. We were expecting trouble." He opened the door wider and forced a smile. "Do you need something?"

The boy looked past him, scanning the room. "Is Ruby Rose here?"

Ren and Nora rose to their feet, weapons drawn. Ruby quickly got out of bed but the two stepped in front of her. She felt a flutter of irritation at their protectiveness. She could take care of herself.

 _How can you protect yourself when you couldn't protect—_  Ruby aborted that line of thought and ignored her stinging eye.

The boy backed up a step, hands raised nervously, but Qrow appeared, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him aside to get inside the room.

"I found him!" the Huntsman cheered, words slightly slurred.

Ruby sighed, the tension lifting from her shoulders. "Are you drunk  _again_?"

"Maybe." Qrow muttered, flopping down onto the couch. He immediately fell onto the floor with a thud. "Ow."

The teens stared at him in exasperation, with the boy's dismayed expression clearly screaming "Why did I come with this guy?" or maybe "This is a professional Huntsman?"

Ruby couldn't blame him. Uncle Qrow didn't always make the greatest first impressions. Her heart went out to the boy and she gave him a small smile. "I'm Ruby Rose. You're looking for me?"

The boy's eyes met hers and widened. For a moment, Ruby thought he was going to comment on her eyepatch. Instead his next words surprised her. "You have silver eyes."

 _Repress repress repress._  Ruby chuckled. "Well, silver eye now."

The boy's freckled cheeks darkened. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Ruby assured him. "How about you come in?"

Jaune stepped aside and the boy walked into the room, shoulders hunched and posture screaming discomfort. He looked to Qrow, but the man was either asleep or too drunk off his rocker to notice. The boy grimaced.

"So, what's your name?" Nora asked, likely taking pity on the poor soul left to fend for himself.

The boy nibbled his lip but straightened his shoulders, looking straight at Ruby. Something in his intelligent gaze was hauntingly familiar, and Ruby's breath caught in her throat.

"My name is Oscar Pine." He said. "But you know me as Professor Ozpin."


	6. Unforgiven

"Are we there—?"

"Don't. You.  _Dare_." Canada snarled, eyes glowing violet.

Ice crackled over the steering wheel he held in a vice-like grip and America would not be surprised if it started snowing despite the warmth of the air. He leaned forward between the front seats of the car his brother was driving, grinning at Pyrrha. He had graciously let the champion ride shotgun on the drive to his house, an offer which Mattie had happily agreed with.

His poor, naïve brother seemed to think being in the backseat would prevent America from irritating him.

The fool.

"I think Mattie's going to murder me." America stage-whispered.

"I'll inform the police when they find you." Pyrrha said solemnly.

"You're supposed to say you'll protect me!" Alfred gasped overdramatically.

"You'd deserve it this time." The champion informed him.

"Hey, at least I'm not singing." America pouted.

"You don't know any songs." Canada grumbled. He froze and regret flashed over his features.

"Yeah, I don't." America admitted once he ignored the pained twinge in his chest. He grinned viciously at his brother. "But that means I'd have to  _create my own_."

"That's not necessary." Canada said, voice high-pitched with slight hysteria. "We're almost there."

America glanced around at the endless forest surrounding them and raised an eyebrow. "Are we? Cause all I've seen for the past three hours is trees."

"The woods go for miles." Canada explained. "This is a remote area. There are no neighbors."

"Nice!" America cheered. No neighbors meant that was one batch of awkward conversations he could successfully avoid.

"What about Grimm?" Pyrrha questioned. "Forests tend to be full of them."

"You're right. I better go over the security system to alert me if some arrive." America said, nodding.

"That's a good idea. We can—" Canada paused, hands clenching around the steering wheel. "…There aren't any Grimm here. We're on Earth."

Matthew sounded as perplexed as Alfred felt, as if he too had forgotten what world they were in. An uncomfortable silence fell over them all, leaving only the low rumble of the engine and the occasional crunch as they went over small stones.

America coughed. "I'd still like to familiarize myself with the security systems."

"You'll have to speak with Tony about that. I'm mostly clueless." Canada admitted.

America's stomach twisted into knots. "Oh, right. That's my alien friend, right?"

"Yes. Don't worry about meeting him. If he's upset, it'll be at England, not you." Canada reassured him.

America slouched in his seat and smirked, crossing his arms. "I like this Tony already."

He saw his brother's grimace in the car's rearview mirror, but Matthew said nothing.

Accompanied by the low crumble of shifting dirt, they pulled around a corner, slowing to a stop in front of a  _mansion_. America gaped at the enormous building, trying to count the number of windows he saw. There were at least twenty, each longer and wider than he was tall, and that was just what he could see. Pyrrha looked similarly overwhelmed, unprepared for the sheer size of their accommodations. Canada laughed at their expressions.

America found his voice. " _This_  is my house? It's huge!"

"It's  _one_  of your houses." Canada corrected him. "You have at least one in every state. You usually stay in an apartment or your penthouse in New York City."

"The city is closer to the airport. Why are we here and not there?" America asked.

"The mansion is more isolated, has more room, and all of your pets are here. Plus, Tony prefers it here. He has rooms filled with inventions."

"Cool. I have a…  _whale_  and cat right?" America asked, uncertain how he came to acquire the former pet. "Who's been taking care of them?"

"Correct. And it was probably Tony or Lithuania."

 _Which one's Lithuania? We must be close._ America wracked his brain for anything about the nation and came up with nothing. He ignored the familiar bite of guilt.  _I'll ask later. I'll have to thank them for taking care of my pets._

Canada walked up the patio with the other two lingering behind. The violet-eyed twin opened the door with the ease of someone who knew they were welcome and beckoned America and Pyrrha inside. The entrance was as large as America expected, with a grand staircase leading upward and multiple hallways leading to different areas of the mansion. America had a feeling he was going to get lost a lot in the next few days.

_Maybe I'll remember the way instinctively. I'd hate having to ask for help to navigate my own house._

Soft footsteps came from a nearby room and a door to the left opened. In the darkness, the first thing America saw was red eyes. Surprisingly, he relaxed. Pyrrha tensed, reaching for her weapon. Canada put a cautionary hand on her arm and greeted the figure.

"Hello, Tony."

The alien stepped out of the shadows and into the foyer. He was shorter than he expected. America had pictured a grey humanoid as tall or taller than he was but the alien barely reached his chest. His face was almost featureless minus his nostrils and eyes which were completely red and lacked a discernable pupil or sclera. Oddly enough, America could not compare them to a Grimm's crimson eyes. They did not exude malice like a Grimm's.

"Pyrrha, meet Tony. Tony, meet Pyrrha Nikos." Canada introduced her, his uncomfortable expression suggesting he was not prepared to explain America's amnesia just yet.

"Hello." The champion said levelly.

Tony barely acknowledged her with a nod, red eyes never leaving America.

Alfred swallowed his nerves and waved. "Hi."

The alien walked up to him, studying him intently with bright red eyes. His expression did not change. Just as America grew unsettled by the scrutiny— scrutiny that made him feel sorely lacking— Tony glared at Canada.

"What happened?" Tony demanded, the unexpectedly high-pitched voice causing Pyrrha to jump.

Canada winced. "It's a long story. The short version is America doesn't have all of his memories right now."

"Was it those soldiers from the other world?" Tony asked.

Pyrrha cringed.

"Yes." Canada responded.

"Bastards." Tony growled. He looked to America. "I'm building something to block them out so they can't get here again."

America's curiosity overcame his nervousness and he grinned. "You can do that? Cool! How? Are you inventing a machine or something? Is it a robot? Does it work yet? Can I see it?"

Tony blinked his large red eyes at him.

America reddened and scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Er, I mean…"

Tony's thin arms wrapped around him, embracing him tightly. "I am glad you have returned." He said gravely.

America relaxed and hugged him back. "Me too, buddy."

Tony released him and beckoned for him to follow. "I will show you my invention but first you need to see the others. They missed you. Whale and Uni in particular. Lithuania and I took care of them but they want  _you_. Uni's been especially upset. She's refused to leave your bedroom for months."

America frowned.  _Who's Uni?_  He kept his question to himself and smiled. "I'd better fix that then. Lead the way, Tony."

They headed upstairs, and the alien finally turned his attention to Pyrrha. "You are from that world?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Pyrrha dropped her gaze. "Er, yes. I am."

Tony studied her as intently as he did America a few moments ago and Pyrrha held his gaze steadily. The alien said nothing, continuing his scrutiny, and Alfred was beginning to wonder if he could read their thoughts somehow that way. After a pause, he nodded.

"If you were untrustworthy, they would not being you here." Tony decided. "Welcome to Earth, Pyrrha Nikos. It is a strange place, but it you may find it is enjoyable."

"I hope not to be here too long." Pyrrha admitted. Her green eyes widened. "Not that Earth is bad. I merely—"

"—miss home." Tony finished. "I understand. I will assist the limey bastard in helping you return."

"Thank you." The champion said with a smile. Her brow crinkled. "Er, 'Limey bastard'?"

"England." Tony and Canada said together, the latter exasperated while the former sounded disgruntled.

America sniggered but put on a straight face when Canada eyed him critically. The violet-eyed twin halted outside a room, opening a door.

"This can be your room, Pyrrha. It's next to Al's."

"Why is that necessary?" Tony asked bluntly.

"I'm Alfred's bodyguard." Pyrrha said. She realized what she said and backtracked. "Not officially yet, of course, but I will be soon. And it's not that he's in any danger or anything like that."

It was odd to see the champion so flustered. It reminded America of…  _someone_  he couldn't recall. Alfred didn't really mind. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one who was overwhelmed and confused.

Tony's intense stare pinned Canada. "You will tell me everything once they are settled in."

Matthew raised his hands peacefully. "I promise I will."

"Good." Tony walked to the next room and opened the door. "Uni is in here."

Alfred paused beside the door, taking a breath. He didn't know what kind of pet Uni was, but pets liked smiles so he needed to greet her as happily as possible. She'd worry more if her owner didn't act okay. Once he was sure his smile was natural, he peered into the room.

Alfred blanched, not prepared for the type of animal that was laying on his bed. He'd been expecting a dog, or a cat, or even a lizard or snake. Not a white horse with a horn. How did she even get  _in_? Weren't horses supposed to be outside? He slowly leaned back out the door and looked to Canada for answers.

"Why is there a horse in my bedroom?" America whispered.

Pyrrha blinked. "What horse?"

America was about to point out the  _very obvious_  white horse sitting on his bed when Canada inhaled sharply. His wide violet eyes were focused completely on the creature like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"That's not a horse." Canada said, voice faint. "That's your unicorn. And I can see her too."

A unicorn? That explained the horn.

"Uni?" he guessed.

A large, intelligent eye blinked at him and the unicorn got off the bed, trotting over. She stuck her head under his chin, nuzzling him gently. America reached out, slowly stroking the unicorn's mane. It felt softer than the fluffiest cloud and smoother than silk, his fingers gliding over her pure white coat like it was made of warm water or air. Uni leaned her head on his chest, and America could  _feel_  her happiness.

"It's okay. I'm back now, girl." He whispered.

Tony watched the exchange curiously. "You can see her now? Interesting." Tony commented.

America frowned at him. "You mean I couldn't before? How did I take care of her?"

"It was difficult but you managed." Tony said. "You are very determined."

Pyrrha stayed in the doorway, looking completely lost. She squinted at the area America was petting but he could tell she couldn't see the unicorn. He took pity on her.

"Here." America grabbed Pyrrha's hand, guiding it to Uni's mane.

The champion's green eyes went round as she felt the creature. A wondrous look crossed her face, making her look much younger than her eighteen years. Uni did not mind the contact, though she refused to leave America's side, head against his chest. Was she listening to his heartbeat?

"Why can I see her this time?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining, but that seems like a pretty big change."

"It could be your amnesia, Vale's presence, or you simply became more magically aware." Canada mused. "It's probably one of the latter two explanations since I am able to see her now as well. You'll have to ask England."

America grimaced. "How about you do it since you can see her now too?"

Canada scowled before adopting a less aggravated look. He probably remembered Alfred had amnesia. Had the twins gotten into arguments about England before? America hid his grimace in Uni's mane.

"You have to talk to England sometime." Canada informed him.

"Not really. I'd prefer sticking with you guys." America said bluntly.

Tony snorted. "Good luck with that. This mansion will have more full rooms soon." He barely reacted to America's confused stare— or Canada's frantic one. What was up with that? The alien shrugged. "What? Did you think Canada brought you here just for isolation? You need the mansion's space."

"Oh yeah. Kiku's coming later. He's cool—" Comprehension dawned and America flinched. Uni nuzzled him, concerned, but he leaned away and glared at Canada. "The others are going to show up, aren't they?" he asked flatly.

Canada winced. "The ones who were in Remnant, plus a couple others in the know, yes."

"Great." America said unenthusiastically. "England gets to snap at me every day. I can't wait."

"He doesn't snap at you." Canada protested.

"Then what do you call our past conversations?" America demanded. "Brotherly ribbing? He  _hates_  me."

Canada grasped his shoulders, staring at him earnestly. "He doesn't hate you. He's just prickly. That's how he is. He doesn't like to show he cares."

"Or he's disgusted by me." America stated. "Every time I mentioned Remnant or Vale he stared at me like I was gum on his shoe." He tapped his eyepatch for emphasis.

Canada looked to Pyrrha and Tony for help— and America realized he  _really_  shouldn't be having this conversation in front of them but it was too late to stop now— but Pyrrha only shrugged helplessly and Tony said nothing. That may be because the alien disliked England and didn't care to defend him.

Or maybe because America's claims were true.

America's eyes prickled but he held the tears back.  _England tried to kill me just like everyone else._

Unaware of his brother's thoughts, Canada shook his head. "That's not true. England cares deeply for you, though your relationship has been… strained, at times. He was your colonizer and your brother, but you wanted independence. So you fought for it. England didn't want to let you go but… you won. He took it hard. But you and Arthur reconciled centuries ago."

Matthew's voice was gentle as he explained, making America desperately want to believe him, but...

_He stared down the barrel of a rifle held by his big brother—_

"Your brother was really worried when you were missing." Pyrrha brought up cautiously, uncertain if her limited input would be welcomed. "He loves you enough to go to a dangerous world to rescue you."

"I… guess that's true." America mumbled.

_He stared down the barrel of a rifle held by his big brother—_

Alfred shoved the memory away. "I suppose I shouldn't judge him until I remember everything. Amnesia really sucks."

"So you'll give England a chance?" Canada pressed.

"…I'll try." America promised unhappily, _staring down the barrel of a gun held by England-Roman-the blonde girl—_

He looked inward, centering himself with his people's presences. Their happiness, hopes, thoughts, and dreams washed over him like a calming wave. It was ironic that something so diverse, and thus chaotic, could be so relaxing. Perhaps it was because the connection between himself and his American people felt clean and pure, singing 'home' to him in a way that Vale's never did—

Claws sank into Alfred's heart, injecting poison into his veins.  _The Grimm were everywhere, circling the destroyed tower and prowling through the abandoned school grounds. He wanted to fight and destroy them all, expelling them from his Academy, but instead their presence sank into his skin, filling his blood with their vile sludge as his soul screamed get them out get them out_ _ **get them OUT—**_

"Al!"

America returned to his body. He was on his back with a frantic Pyrrha, Canada, Tony, and Uni at his sides. When had he fallen? He didn't remember falling. Uni nudged his cheek, but her nose was soon replaced by the cool hands of his brother. America squinted at him, unable to vocalize any type of reaction, and Matthew's expression tightened. He turned to Pyrrha.

"Let's get him to the bed."

America had no intention of being carried like an invalid. "No! I'm fine." He smacked away Canada's hands, shooed away Pyrrha's, and gently patted Uni's prodding nose until she retreated slightly.

"You collapsed  _again_. I would not call that 'fine'." Canada snapped.

"It was different this time. It wasn't because of a memory." America protested. "I… I think I'm getting some feedback from Vale. The city, I mean—" His lungs constricted and he wheezed. Another bolt of pain lanced through his chest and he gritted his teeth. "Damn Dragon…"

"You can  _feel_  it?" Canada demanded, horrified.

The northern nation iced over, literally. Uni flinched and pressed against America as the temperature dropped, the whites appearing around her eyes as frost materialized over Canada's tense frame. Tony eyed the ice curiously but said nothing.

"How long has this been happening?" Canada pressed, his hand as cold as ice on America's shoulder

"A while." America said vaguely. "Almost as long as I remember; which isn't very long, mind you." His joke did not bring a smile to any face. Tough crowd. He sighed. "Ever since I remembered I was Vale, the pain comes and goes. I don't know why you're surprised. Beacon is occupied by Grimm and you told me this kind of thing is normal for nations."

Canada's expression grew strained. "It is. But Al… You're going to be in pain on and off until the Grimm are expelled from Beacon. That could take  _years_."

His tone came out strangled and he pressed a hand to his chest, pain flashing through his features before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. America comprehended his brother was close to crying. He got off the floor and wobbled, falling into Pyrrha. The champion supported him easily, and he shot her a quick smile of thanks before turning to Matthew.

"Hey." He waited until Mattie looked at him and grinned. "It's just a little heartburn. I can deal."

"You shouldn't  _have_  to deal." Canada said faintly.

He stared past America's shoulder, fingers brushing against his own chest again, above his heart, and another agonized look flickered over his face. Canada shook himself and prodded America in the chest, giving a weak glare that was more desperate than intimidating.

"Tell me whenever you feel pain from Vale." He commanded.

America saluted lazily. "Yes sir."

Canada was not satisfied with his teasing answer. "Pyrrha, Tony, spy on him for me and tell me when he shows pain."

"Okay." Tony agreed.

"Of course." Pyrrha said.

Even Uni nodded in agreement.

"Hey!" America squawked. "Traitors!"

"America, this is serious." Canada said sternly. "We  _need_  to know when this happens."

His brother was scared, America realized.  _Genuinely_  scared. America considered what he would feel like if Canada was in his position and the resulting painful compression in his chest had nothing to do with Vale. His mock-indignation slipped away and Alfred hugged Matthew tightly, pretending not to hear his surprised squeak.

"Don't worry about me, bro. I'm going to be okay." he promised.

America hoped he could keep his word.

XXXXXXX

Ruby sat in her chair, trying to process what she had been told. There was a lot she had to take in, part of which was that her former headmaster's soul was now residing in the body of this boy. Oscar was currently… in the backseat? Resting? In the back of the mind? What was the proper terminology for possession of the non-demonic kind? Whatever it was, Ozpin was currently in control. Ozpin, who wasn't really just Professor Ozpin, because he was the amalgamation of a bunch of souls that were also a single immortal soul who had been cursed by the Gods of Remnant to attach to a like-minded soul until he defeated Salem. Apparently.

 _This has to be in the top five weirdest things I've heard in my life,_  Ruby mused. Her lips quirked.  _It sounds like the plot of one of Blake's books._

Her smile faded and she glanced around the room. Jaune, Qrow, Nora, Ren, and Oscar— Ozpin—… Ozcar? Ozcar sounded like a good name for the two of them, not that she'd say it aloud. The six of them were the only ones here when there should be so many more. Ruby blinked, biting her lip, but stopped when she feared it might bleed. Something must have shown in her face because Jaune put a hand on her shoulder, and Ozpin looked at her with  _pitying_ — sad eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear about the loss of Ms. Nikos and the others." He said softly, gaze dropping to his steaming coffee. "But I'm afraid we do not have time to grieve."

Jaune's hand tightened on Ruby's shoulder. She didn't wince, but he released her anyway, hand falling to his side. The place where his palm once lay felt cold.

Ozpin looked to Qrow. "You haven't met with Leo yet?"

"We're going tomorrow unless you think we shouldn't." Qrow said.

"Why shouldn't we?" Nora asked.

The Huntsman slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I've been looking around and found some troubling things. For one, Haven is empty. That's against orders. The purpose of the schools is to  _always_  have Huntsmen around to defend the Relic, yet all of the Huntsmen are nowhere to be found."

"That is troubling news. Something is wrong." Ozpin murmured. His glowing eyes swept over the teenagers. "I fear our enemies may be closer than we think. We must keep my presence a secret for now."

Jaune's lips thinned but he remained silent. Ruby struggled to do the same, biting her tongue so she didn't blurt that they shouldn't keep more secrets. Qrow and Ozpin knew what they were doing, and how could she dismiss their instincts when she always followed her own?

"What are we going to do if we can't trust Professor Lionheart?" Nora asked uncomfortably.

"What we were planning originally." Qrow said. "We'll talk with him and try to find answers. Just take his with a bit of salt." He stood up, pocketing his flask. "I'll tell Leo about Neo to see how he reacts. The enemy already knows her identity and location so no harm will come of it."

The name came out of left field, blindsiding Ruby. For a moment she floundered, struggling to respond as  _her face was cut open—_

"What a-about Neo?" she stammered, interrupting Ozpin before he could speak.

Qrow stiffened, letting out a low curse. He turned to his niece, stooping to her eyelevel, and Ruby had never seen her uncle look so unsure of himself before. Her fingernails bit into her palms. Qrow grasped her hand, forcing her fingers apart and frowning at the crescent-shaped indents in her palm. He released her hand with a sigh, red eyes locking with her silver.

"Neo is Mistral, kiddo. Jaune found out."

Ruby went over his words once.

Twice.

Three times.

She gave a nervous laugh. "Um. I don't… What?"

Qrow sighed. "You heard me, kiddo."

"Neo?  _That_  Neo?" Ruby asked, hoping that maybe there just so happened to be another Neo she didn't know about. "Are you sure?"

"Yes,  _that_  Neo. And we're certain." Qrow confirmed, crushing her hopes into dust.

Ruby nodded slowly. "Uh huh." Smoldering coals settled in her chest and her eye socket  _ached_  but she resisted the desire to rub it. "Okay. So we have to protect her from Salem's guys."

"We have to stop Salem's people from getting her, yes." Qrow said.

Ruby could feel his eyes on her, studying her carefully, and purposely avoided his gaze. "That's good. That we know who Mistral is, I mean."

The coals warmed, growing uncomfortably hot, yet somehow Ruby's fingertips were cold. He missing eye stung and pulsed like a gaping wound and she sucked air through her teeth, rising abruptly.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back."

Ruby walked out before they could try to respond or call her out on the fact that there was a bathroom right in the room. Once she was far enough down the hall, her knees buckled and she sat against the wall, pulling her legs to her chest. The coals still burned but she shivered, wrapping her cloak around herself and hunching her shoulders.

So Neo was Mistral. That was a thing. A very unexpected thing but she could deal with it. It wasn't that big of a thing. All Neo did was almost kill Yang, participate in multiple attacks on Vale, cause numerous deaths, murder a lot of people herself, and cut out Ruby's eye. She was a criminal, a villain, and she hurt people with a smirk on her face.

And now they had to  _protect_  her.

_Pain ripped through the left side of her face and she screamed, clutching her eye and crumpling to the roof of the airship. Everything on that side went dark— not a single ounce of light coming through— and Ruby could not tell whether it was because her eyelid was closed or something else._

_All she knew was that it hurt._

_It hurt so_ _**badly** _ _._

"Ruby?"

The silver-eyed girl flinched and looked up to see Jaune. His stance reminded her of the first time they met, back when everything was bright and new and exciting. So much had changed since then, and not all of it for the better. The knight sat beside Ruby and leaned his head against the wall.

"Hi." Ruby mumbled.

"Hey." Jaune said. "You okay?"

"Yes. I just needed some air." Ruby claimed. "I'm a little overwhelmed by the whole reincarnating Professor Ozpin thing."

"No, you're not." Jaune said gently. "You're upset about  _Neo_." He spat thepersonification of Mistral's name with such venom his voice was barely recognizable. He ran his hand through his messy blond hair, agitating it further. "I can't believe she's the representative of Pyr— of this Kingdom."

Ruby's chest ached. Her fingernails dug into her palms again, succeeding in drawing blood this time. "I can't either. But we have to keep Haven, Mistral, and the Relic safe."

"By locating and defending a person who hurt you, your team, and all of us." Jaune stated. His understanding blue eyes softened. "You can be angry about this, Ruby."

"I'm not angry." Ruby lied. "It's fine."

It wasn't fine and Jaune knew it. He could also tell she wasn't ready to speak about her feelings about their new mission yet. How could she, when she herself wasn't sure how she felt? Her emotions were tangled yarn, knotted so tightly together she couldn't identify or do anything with any of them.

"You can talk to me about anything." Jaune promised. "You're my best friend."

Ruby's smile grew more natural. "Thanks. Same to you. Er, for both things you said."

Jaune chuckled but his smile faded quickly. He looked back towards their room, expression unreadable. "There's so many things we weren't told about. Ozpin, Alfred, the Grimm Queen, the others… I can't help but wonder if we  _knew_ …"

He trailed off, but Ruby knew exactly what he was talking about. If they had known about the nations, Tyrian, and how Alfred and Matthew were caught up in Ozpin's mess sooner, would they and Pyrrha have survived? Would they and Arthur, Francis, and their friends be with them in this hotel, planning their next move? Would Alfred have more information about Neo's whereabouts because he was her captive for a while? Would Ozpin have bothered sharing his past if there were more people to hear it? How many more secrets were they keeping from Ruby, Jaune, Ren, and Nora?

_We're all that's left…_

Ruby blinked back tears. "Jaune?"

Something in her tone made him grasp her hand comfortingly. "Yeah?"

"We have to trust each other. Team RWBY and Juni— …you and Nora and Ren. The seven of us. We have to stick together. Even if Uncle Qrow and Ozpin say to keep stuff from each other, we shouldn't. All it's done has caused bad stuff to happen." She grabbed his hand more firmly, ready to shake it. "No secrets."

Jaune didn't hesitate, shaking her hand and agreeing to their pledge. "No secrets." His blue eyes grew hard. "Ruby, there's something you should know…"

XXXXXXX

When Japan heard the sharp knock on his hotel room door, he knew it was time. He braced himself, straightening his shoulders and putting on an unaffected mask of calm as he prepared to face his doom. There was no point in running, though the window was a tantalizing escape route, because his foe would not be so easily deterred and would hunt him down. Taking one final moment to make sure nothing was nearby that could be broken, he opened the door to meet his fate.

"Where  _were_  you, aru?!" China demanded, pushing through the doorway and shutting the door behind him.

"Hello, China-san." Japan greeted politely.

China's eyes narrowed. Japan risked a glance at his hands and was glad he was not carrying a wok and ladle. Instead he shook a fist in Japan's face, all-too ready to smack him. "Did you think I wouldn't notice that you snuck out of the meeting? Has England turned you into a delinquent like Hong Kong?!" His teeth bared and he looked ready to hunt down the Englishman if that was true.

Japan held in a sigh "No, China-san. I merely wished to say goodbye to America-kun."

China paused. "He left already?" The older nation shook his head wildly, long hair flipping over his shoulder. "That does not matter. You are foolish! America and Canada vanish from a conference months ago, and you leave a conference  _alone_  without telling  _anyone_?"

 _Oh_. Japan winced. "I—"

China gave him no time to explain himself. "You could have been taken like them." He continued to rant. "And we'd go through this all over again, aru!"

Japan shook his head. "I know this is not an excuse but I was not in danger of that. The people who captured America and Canada are no longer a threat to us."

China's nostrils flared. "I  _know_  you are lying, aru. You are not certain if they are neutralized. What are you hiding from me, Japan?"

"I cannot tell you." Japan said stiffly.

China glared at him. Then, to Japan's horror, his shoulders slumped. "You trust me so little?" he asked miserably.

"That's not it at all." Japan hurried to assure him. "It is simply not my decision whether or not to tell you."

"It is America's." China guessed shrewdly. "England said they experimented on him, aru. What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing." Japan lied.

China scoffed, flipping his ponytail behind his shoulder. "Fine. If you will not tell me, I will go to America's house and ask him myself." His eyes gleamed. "I will bring snacks. America can never resist my food."

Japan winced and jerked forward, blocking China before he could storm out. "Please do not. America needs time to heal. He is not comfortable around strangers yet." He froze, wishing for nothing more than to take that last sentence back.

"Stranger? I am no—" China's skin paled several shades. "His memory is gone? Those people took a  _nation's_ memories away?!"

His volume rose and Japan shushed him frantically, glancing at the thin hotel walls nervously. "Please quiet down. We cannot let anyone find out."

"America has  _lost his memories_  of us." China snapped. "Those humans were able to  _damage_  a  _nation's mind_. The rest need to know this is possible, aru. You cannot—"

Three firm knocks came from the door. Japan and China glanced at each other before Japan approached, hand drifting towards a katana that was not there. He needed to get used to not wearing his weapon everywhere. Thankfully, China had grabbed a pan from the kitchenette in the room, so at least he was armed.

Japan opened the door and was relieved to see Australia there. The green-eyed nation quirked an eyebrow at the two Asians.

"G'Day, Japan, China. You know, if you yell any louder I think the aliens will hear you." He said dryly.

Japan grimaced and bowed. "I apologize. You overheard us?"

"Just China. You're lucky most of the others are still out." Australia grumbled. He edged into the room and shut the door before looking to the older nation. "Oi, you should really keep it down. We don't want everyone finding out about America's amnesia."

" _You_  know what happened?" China demanded.

"I was part of the search, mate." Australia informed him idly. "Course I know. Romano does too now since he threw a fit about his brother."

"Italy was upset about Germany's injuries and Romano found out." Japan surmised.

"Got it in one." Australia praised.

"Why shouldn't the others know about America?" China asked, dragging the conversation back. "The superpower of the world doesn't remember anything and a  _human organization_  did this to him!"

"Alfred is slowly recalling things." Japan defended his friend. "It will take time. He is simply not ready to fully return to his life as a personification yet."

China's lip curled angrily. "You think we would take advantage of him due to his amnesia?"

"Some would." Japan stated. "But truthfully, manipulating America would not be as easy as you think. He is much more mistrustful after what happened. If someone tried to pressure him into doing something…"

_America tensed when England tried to touch his arm. Cobalt Striker flicked up, her bayonet resting beneath the Brit's chin._

" _Try that again and I'll_ _ **kill you**_ _." America hissed, both eyes flashing green._

Japan shook himself. "…The pressing party would be the one to leave that conversation worse off than before."

China shifted from irritated to uneasy. "Is America dangerous?"

"He will attack first and ask questions later if pressured." Japan said bluntly. "We need to get him to calm down and remember his allies before trying to integrate him back into normal life."

Australia did not add any commentary, simply watching the conversation from the sidelines. The haunted way he looked at Japan told the black-haired nation Australia had been told the whole tale of America and Canada's time on Remnant, including about Vale. Getting the old America back would not be as simple as giving him time and hoping for the best.

_But it is possible. America is still there. He simply needs encouragement to remember who he is and who he can trust. Revealing his 'weaknesses' to the other nations will not help with any of that._

Japan came to a decision. "I must speak with my boss. After that, I will go to America." He sighed. "You may accompany me and I will explain the situation on the way…  _if_  you agree not to tell your boss or anyone about any of this yet."

China frowned at him suspiciously. "Why  _wouldn't_  I inform them, aru?"

"Because if you do, we might find ourselves at war with another world." Japan told him gravely.

China eyed him suspiciously, searching for any signs of jest or exaggeration, but spotted none. He nodded. "Fine. I will not mention it." He raised a hand, waving his forefinger side to side. "I expect  _all_  of the answers from you."

"I will give them." Japan promised.

China huffed and glanced at Australia, posture leaking disapproval. "I cannot believe you were involved and not me."

"Oi, I was with the rescue team from the start." Australia protested. "You lot were the ones who forgot about the twins after a month."

"Hmph." China grunted.

"What are you going to do next?" Japan asked Australia politely. "Are you going to America's with the others?"

"Yes. I'm picking Kumajirou up and heading to the States." Australia said with a shrug. "He's at my house right now. Cuba and I've been taking turns caring for him."

"I am sure he will be happy to reunite with his owner." Japan said with a small smile.

"He'd better be." Australia groused. "He's a gluttonous menace. I  _never_  want to see another fish again." He gave a casual wave. "See ya there."

"Goodbye." Japan said.

He held open the door as Australia walked out, glancing at China as the older nation failed to do the same.

Brown eyes narrowed to slits. "Do you think I have forgotten about your delinquency, aru?"

China began to rant to Japan about his foolishness and responsibilities, blaming everyone from Japan to England to even Greece and South Korea for his boneheaded decisions. Japan sighed and shut the door, sitting in a chair by the bed and resigning himself to a long lecture. At least America would find his misery funny.


	7. Meet the Boss

"Pyrrha? Pyrrha.  _Psst_."

At the sound of her name, Pyrrha slowly opened her eyes, squinting in displeasure as early morning light pierced her retinas. A shadowy figure leaned over her, blocking part of the offending window and she could recognize that ahoge anywhere.

"Morning, Alfred." Pyrrha murmured, sitting up and stretching. "Why are you in my room?"

America shuffled closer, hesitant, soft footsteps more like a nervous child's than his normal confident strides. His expression held similar shyness, his face scrunched and tense as he wondered if he had overstepped his bounds by invading her personal refuge. Did he expect her to yell at him and throw him out? The thought made Pyrrha's heart ache and she smiled, hoping to reassure him.

Alfred's features relaxed and he smiled back. "Tony and I made breakfast."

"Really?" Pyrrha glanced at the clock and saw it was only half past seven. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while. I'm an early riser." America said with a cheerful shrug. "Like I've always been?"

 _Did he intend for that to sound like a question?_  "You've never had trouble getting up in the morning," Pyrrha chuckled, and his uncertainty washed away like it had never been there. "Matthew, on the other hand…"

America pulled a face. "I know. I tried to wake him up before you but he sleeps like a log."

"I will help you rouse him." She decided.

Pyrrha got out of bed, considering her soft pink pajamas. America was not dressed either so she decided to stay in them for now. It was not something she did often, but she did not have school, training, or a mission to get to today. The champion's breath caught but she mentally shook herself.

_I'll have things to do once I become America's bodyguard._

She followed America to the bedroom on the other side of his, not bothering to be quiet when opening the door. The loud squeak of the hinges and soft bang when it struck the wall did nothing to rouse the snoring twin on the bed. Pyrrha and America stared down at Canada, who slept obliviously with one foot sticking out from under his blankets.

"You've tried calling his name?" Pyrrha questioned, volume at a normal level for conversations. At his nod, she chuckled. "I believe your usual tactics are in order."

"What tactics?" America questioned.

Pyrrha headed for the door. "When I return, flip the mattress on top of him. I need to get a peace offering."

She headed down to the kitchen, one of the few rooms she could locate after eating a few meals there. The clean, tiled space was devoid of people except Tony, who stood on a stool and flipped some bacon on the stove. The alien nodded to her, then gestured at a corner where coffee was brewing. Pyrrha thanked him and poured a mug, heading back upstairs. America was still at his brother's bedside when she came back, his eyes zeroing in on the steaming mug in her hands. A grin split his face and he sniggered.

"I see." He hooked his fingers under the edge of the mattress, grin widening, and took a breath.

"RISE AND SHINE, BRO!"

America tipped the mattress and Canada with it, eliciting a shriek from his twin. The amnesiac nation left the bed on top of Matthew, cackling as he darted out of range of his brother's vengeful swipes. Canada's snarls would terrify an Ursa Major. His head poked out from under his mattress and he hissed like an angry cat, one violet eye open while the other remained blearily closed.

Pyrrha had to stifle her laughter as she crouched next to him, holding out the coffee. Matthew sniffed and snatched the mug, pulling himself out from under the mattress. Two gulps later and a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Canada glowered at them both, sipping his coffee indignantly.

"Why must you always do that?" he said grumpily.

"Because you'd sleep through the apocalypse if I didn't." America choked, red-faced as he tried to hold in his laughter.

Canada's moody glower severed Alfred's control and he flopped onto the fallen mattress, giggling madly. Matthew irritably jabbed his brother in the side, only causing him to laugh harder.

"I hate you." Canada said flatly. "I hate you both."

"Love you too, Mattie." America giggled. He rolled off the mattress, avoiding his brother's poke, and grinned at Pyrrha. "Let's go eat breakfast before it gets cold."

They headed back downstairs to see a nice spread ready for them. Bacon, eggs, sausage, juice, coffee, toast, and pancakes were laid out on the tabletop, with Tony patiently waiting for them to arrive. They sat and dug in, conversations flowing naturally as they ate. Pyrrha and America asked questions about Earth, Canada answered, America inquired about Tony's inventions, the alien explained, and the topics remained light and calm. It reminded Pyrrha of the peaceful days before the fall of Beacon, and for a moment, her fork quivered, causing her piece of pancake to slide off of the utensil and back onto her plate.

"Are you alright, Pamela?" Canada asked.

Pyrrha nodded. "Yes."

Violet eyes studied her solemnly. "Okay. We're here for you."

The painful twinge in the champion's heart eased. "I know."

They finished their meal, with America pushing his plate away first. "Man, I'm stuffed." He groaned. "We did good, Tony."

He and the alien high-fived.

Canada frowned at his brother, not as pleased as he was. "You didn't eat as much as you usually do."

America blinked. "Really? This was a lot to me." He chuckled. "I mean, I was living off rabbits and squirrels for a while back in Anima, so I didn't have a lot of food to eat and I kept fainting—" He twitched. "I mean, there weren't many options, haha…"

_Creeeeaaaakkkk._

Pyrrha glanced at her fork and balked when she saw it was bent nearly in half. She hastily set it down. "I'm so sorry—"

"It's fine." Canada reassured her.

They started gathering up the plates and loading them into the dishwasher by the sink. For a time, there was no noise except the clink of ceramic and the occasional rush of water as it was washed of loose grime.

"So your President is coming over today." Canada said casually.

Pyrrha stiffened.

America froze. "…When?"

"Um…" Canada glanced at the clock. "…In half an hour."

The two stared at him for a long pause. Then America burst into motion, springing at his brother and grasping his shoulders. He shook his twin frantically, visible eye wild.

" _How long have you known?!_ " he shrieked.

Canada winced. "Since yesterday."

"Why didn't you  _tell_  me yesterday?"

"Because I knew you'd freak out."

"I'm freaking out more _because you didn't tell me!_ " America snapped. He released Canada and gripped his hair. "What am I going to do? What's  _Pyrrha_  going to do? Oh,  _shit_."

His panic was contagious and Pyrrha felt her own heartbeat quicken in response. Canada caught their urgency as well and rose to his feet.

"You two go shower." He ordered. "I'll lay out clothes for both of you. Tony, I'm sorry but could you clean up?"

"Okay." The alien said. "Hurry up, idiots."

They rushed off, the peaceful morning broken apart by their new deadline. Pyrrha showered as quickly as she could and blow-dried her hair, carefully pulling it back into a ponytail. She exited the bathroom to find an outfit laying on her bed, courtesy of Matthew. The Canadian must have picked it up in Rome along with the other clothes he had gotten her. Pyrrha hoped she could pay him back somehow.

The outfit consisted of a simple white dress shirt with grey slacks and a blazer, along with black dress shoes. Pyrrha tried them on, testing them for flexibility, and was pleased to find that they did not hinder her movements. The shoes were surprisingly comfortable as well. If she had to fight in these clothes, she would be more than capable.

_I'll have to get used to it. My normal armor would attract attention here._

She exited the room and nearly ran into Canada, who had dressed into his own brown suit. He looked more comfortable in it than Pyrrha did, his curly hair neatly in place, though she supposed he was used to such attire, unlike her. Canada scanned her critically, then nodded to himself.

"Good. You look professional."

It hit Pyrrha then that she was essentially going to a job interview with the boss of a country in a couple minutes. She took a breath and exhaled, pretending she was simply meeting with a potential sponsor instead of the leader of a superpower. Her tactics worked and she calmed down enough to think about the upcoming meeting.

"Should I bring my weapon?" Pyrrha questioned.

"No." Canada said, not needing to say more.

"Should I mention Vale, Atlas, Aura, my Semblance, or the Grimm?"

"No. Leave those explanations to me." He said firmly. "Your job is to show them you are willing and capable of guarding America." His expression softened. "Even if they do not approve, you can stay with him anyway."

"I'd rather bodyguard him officially, and with their blessing." Pyrrha admitted. "I'm… Well, I'm an illegal alien from a world that has been hostile to their country. I do not want to antagonize them."

Canada clasped her arm briefly. "You won't. You'll do fine, Pyrrha."

His faith in her warmed her chilled limbs and she relaxed. "Thank you, Canada."

"How do I look?"

America exited his room. He wore a simple dark blue suit much like Canada's. Unlike Canada, he looked distinctly uncomfortable in the dressy outfit, preferring more casual clothes. Like Pyrrha, he tried a few kicks and punches, testing his mobility, but stopped and smiled sheepishly when Matthew glared at him. His stillness lasted exactly two seconds before America fidgeted and tugged at his white collar agitatedly, rubbing his eyepatch under his glasses with his other hand. Canada slapped his hands away, fixing them.

"Do you remember how to greet the President?" the violet-eyed twin questioned as he worked.

"Is a handshake appropriate or should we salute?" America asked nervously.

"A handshake is fine from you both. Make sure you're standing when he comes in." Canada informed them. "And address him as 'Mister President' or 'sir' unless he says otherwise. He probably won't."

"Understood." Pyrrha said.

America merely nodded.

They headed downstairs just as the ringing of a doorbell sounded through the halls.

Canada glanced at the clock and paled. "He's not supposed to be here for another ten minutes."

"It's not him. It's some other guys." America said, gazing in the direction of the door.

"They're probably Secret Service or FBI." Canada murmured.

"But you aren't certain." Pyrrha said. She quickened her steps, stopping America before he could approach the door. "I will answer. You go to the other room."

He opened his mouth to protest but paused, nodding sharply. "Okay."

Pyrrha smiled at him before smoothing her expression and looking at the security footage from the doorstep. Three men in black stood on the other side of the door, hands clasped in front of them, sunglasses on, and earpieces in their ears. She peered through the peephole, ensuring she had their positioning memorized, and then pressed the intercom next to the door.

"This is the residence of Alfred F. Jones. State your business, please."

The men glanced at each other before the front most man spoke. "We are with the government. We have an appointment with Mister Jones. Is he here?"

"I'd like to see some IDs, please." Pyrrha requested.

The men held up their identification cards to the security camera. One was from the FBI, one was from the CIA, and the third was from the Secret Service. Pyrrha scanned them for authenticity, and they did appear to be real. She pressed the intercom again.

"What weapons are you carrying?"

"Government-issued side-arms, ma'am." The man from the FBI said.

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. She could sense they each had an additional pistol in holsters at their ankles. She debated on whether to inform them she knew or not, then decided it would be better to call them out now rather than let them think they had a secret gun. "You also have guns attached on your right ankles."

The men's expressions did not change.

"Yes, ma'am." The FBI agent confirmed.

"Are you carrying any other weapons?" Pyrrha asked coolly.

"No, ma'am." He said.

Sensing he was telling the truth, Pyrrha nodded, despite the fact they couldn't see her. "Very well. You may enter."

She put in the code and opened the door. Three sets of eyes scrutinized her but Pyrrha did not waver. She stepped aside and let them in, scrutinizing them ferociously while maintaining a stoic expression. Once they were inside, she locked the door and gestured down the hall.

"Mister America and Mister Canada are this way."

The agents followed her to their destination, and Pyrrha kept note of their positioning and steps. If one reached for a weapon, she'd know.

"Are you Ms. Nikos?" the CIA agent asked.

"Indeed, I am." She said levelly. "We were not expecting you."

"We want to make sure the place is secure before Mister President arrives." The Secret Service agent stated. "If you do not mind, we would like to ask you some questions."

"I will do my best to answer them, but Mister Canada is more aware of the situation than I." Pyrrha informed him calmly. Before they could try to ask any of their questions, they arrived at the meeting room door, to the champion's relief. "Here we are."

She opened the door, going in first and not allowing them a single second where they were closer to America and Canada than she was. The twins were identical images of calm, with not even Alfred showing the slightest twitch of nerves. Pyrrha could only hope she exuded a similar aura of control.

The Secret Service agent nodded to America, holding out his hand. "It is good to see you again, America. I apologize for not informing you of our visit. Ms. Nikos was quite adamant we answer some questions before letting us in."

America took the offered hand, shaking it once. "Ms. Nikos takes my safety very seriously."

The agent chuckled. "Well, you could have at least identified us for her to make things easier."

America's expression did not change. "I'm afraid that's impossible, seeing as how I do not remember you."

The agents balked. Canada and Pyrrha remained unmoved. The champion guessed the twins had discussed the topics each of them would reveal while she checked their guests, and mentally applauded their foresight. America couldn't look to his brother for assistance and advice now. Not if he wanted to avoid heightening his government's concern about his capabilities.

"You do not remember me?" the Secret Service agent asked, regaining his calm. "How much have your forgotten?"

"Almost everything." America said bluntly, voice completely level. "I know I am the personification of the United States of America, and I maintain my connection with my people, but much of my memory is unavailable to me at this time."

Pyrrha noticed the glance that passed between the agents. She scanned the room for anything metal she could pin them with, noting the metal clasps that kept their guns in their holsters. It wouldn't take much effort to hold their holsters closed.

"How did this happen?" the CIA agent demanded, glare shifting from Canada to Pyrrha.

The champion remained at ease, keeping her features neutral.

"It is a long story, and I would rather only tell it once." Canada informed him, cool tone daring them to argue.

The agents looked to each other, hands shifting slightly. Pyrrha recognized it as a code, but could not hope to decipher it. America watched their movements intently, visible eye narrowed in concentration. Finally, the Secret Service agent turned to the three while the FBI agent murmured into his earpiece.

"We will bring in the President now." The Secret Service agent said.

"Very well." America said calmly.

The Secret Service agent eyed him, the skin tightening around his mouth. "This had better not be a prank, Alfred."

The sound of his human name caused the nation to relax slightly and he shot the man an apologetic look. "I wish it was, dude."

The doorbell rang again. Pyrrha locked eyes with Alfred and he nodded. She left the room and headed back to the door, looking through the security feed. Nine men stood outside, with only the one in the middle lacking the sunglasses-and-earpiece combo the rest wore. She sensed their weapons, which included two guns each, and although she recognized the man in the middle from the pictures she had been given, she did not open the door.

"This is the residence of Alfred F. Jones. State your business, and I'd like to see some identification, please."

The agent on the President's right frowned. "You know who we are."

Pyrrha did not quail under his displeasure. "Indeed. I still need to see your identification before I let you in."

"We are the Secret Service accompanying the President." The agent said.

"Something I'm sure your Identification will clearly confirm." Pyrrha stated.

The man grimaced like he was trying not to scowl. "Listen here, you—"

"Just show her your IDs." The President interrupted.

The agents pulled them out and Pyrrha scanned them, knowing they'd be saved in the system if she needed to see them again at a later date. Satisfied, she opened the door and nodded slightly.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mister President. I am Pyrrha Nikos."

The President smiled and shook her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Nikos."

His expression was calm, but she could feel him studying her intently. She did not mind, instead leading the President and his agents to America and Canada. She entered the room, and four agents came with her, checking the area before letting the President come inside with the remainder. America and Canada stood in front of their chairs and watched the proceedings without comment. It was only when the President stopped in front of him that America spoke.

"Mister President."

"America."

They shook hands, and the President's brow creased. "My agents have informed me you have amnesia?"

"Yes, sir."

The President sat down and the twins followed suit. Pyrrha and the agents remained standing.

The President ran a hand through his dark hair. "How?"

America did not answer, blue eye moving from agent to agent. "Do all of these men have clearance?" he asked bluntly.

The President did not mind. "Yes. They can be trusted."

America inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Only Canada knows the full story, sir."

They all looked to Canada. Without the slightest grimace or sign of discomfort, he began to explain. "Mister President, as you are aware, America and I were captured almost a year ago by people from another world. One of their national personifications was dying, and they intended to… use us to help her. They ran numerous tests on us—" Here Matthew's hands clenched into fists. "—and eventually discovered America was the more compatible of the two of us. They used a special machine created for such a purpose to transfer their nation's soul into America's body in order to save her."

The atmosphere in the room shifted at his revelation, growing tense. The agents' became stone, their anger wafting off of them like waves. The President gripped the arm of his chair tightly but did not interrupt.

"They were successful at ensuring the personification of that nation did not cease to be." Canada continued as if the Americans had not reacted. "Because of their efforts, America is now the personification of that nation  _and_  America, and lost a majority of his memories as a result of the… union."

"I think I understand." The President said levelly, but his green eyes burned like emerald flames. "Tell me, was that personification the representative of the people who took you both?"

"No, sir." America answered for his brother.

The President nodded, slowly. "I see." His green eyes narrowed. "I know you are leaving things out, Canada."

The Canadian did not flinch. "Yes, sir."

"Why?" the President demanded, voice low.

Canada met his glare. "The information is not relevant to you at this time."

"I think I can decide what is 'relevant' when it comes to  _my country_." The President growled.

The agents tensed. Pyrrha remained outwardly relaxed, but noted their weapons, positions, and her own available arsenal again. Secrecy or not, she was not going to stand by and let these men attack her friends. Before the argument could get more heated, America stood, hands raised peacefully.

"Hey, let's all calm down." He said soothingly. He looked to his boss. "Don't blame Matt— Canada. I am the one who insisted we not share all the details with you, Mister President."

"Why?" the President asked again, less angry than before.

America met his glare with a stern look of his own. "Due to the amnesia, I'm not legally sound of mind. I cannot clearly reason what should be shared with you because of my inability to recall all the events that transpired. All I know is that what happened there can have grave effects on my people if inaccurate or the wrong type of information is shared and I refuse to risk them by giving you information skewed by my limited memories."

Pyrrha could scarcely believe the words coming out of Alfred's mouth. He sounded so sure of himself as he spoke of the implications and repercussions, reciting them in a calm, rational way that did not fit her image of the boisterous, flighty teen she knew. She did not show her surprise, but the agents and President certainly did, staring at America like he had grown another head.

America's boss frowned lightly. "You are certain about this?"

"Yes, sir." America stated.

The President mulled over his response before giving a short bark of a laugh. "You've forgotten almost everything, yet somehow remember the Sound Mind Law. Why must you always be so difficult, America?" Only the teasing edge to his tone stopped Pyrrha from tensing.

America relaxed, shrugging apologetically. "Sorry, sir. It's part of my charm."

"Of course." The President said dryly. His green gaze grew stern once more. "America's memories are returning?" At Alfred's nod, he continued. "Then I will not push you for answers if you agree to have a doctor monitor your progress and health. Once you are capable, we will speak of this again."

"Yes, sir." America and Canada agreed.

"I do have a couple more questions for now." The President said severely. "Is there a risk of the monsters from that world getting here?"

 _He knows about the Grimm?_  Pyrrha thought, struggling to keep her surprise off her face.

"England and Tony are working on something to prevent that, sir. Tony also has devices running to monitor for portal activity." Canada said honestly.

The President frowned but nodded reluctantly. His gaze flicked back to America. "Is this other nation affecting you negatively?"

America's face remained blank. "I am connected to m— Vale's people and receive feedback when Vale is attacked, sir."

Off to the side, Pyrrha saw Canada grimace, hand brushing his chest. When he saw her looking the discomforted look vanished and he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

"'Vale'..." The President's eyes closed, a pained look crossing his face. His sorrow made him look decades older and Pyrrha's heart went out to him. "I see. I'll inform the doctor. Thank you for telling me the truth." Green eyes sought out Pyrrha, who held them steadily. "Are you from Vale, Ms. Nikos?"

"I was not born there, but I was trained there, sir." Pyrrha said, ignoring the pounding in her chest.

"Canada informed me you are a warrior." The President said agreeably. "Why do you seek to protect America as a bodyguard?"

"It is my duty." Pyrrha stated.  _And he is my friend._

"Someone ordered you to protect him?" The President asked.

"A while ago, yes, but I have continued my mission as my own decision." Pyrrha informed him.

"Are you protecting him because he is Vale?" the President shot at her, echoing America's question from days ago.

"I am protecting him because he needs protection from those that would seek to harm him." Pyrrha said honestly.

"Are you associated with the nation that abducted America?" the President asked abruptly.

Pyrrha didn't blink. "No, sir."

"What would you do if I attacked America?"

"I would defend him, sir."

"What if the leader of Vale attacked him?"

"I would defend him, sir."

"What if the leader of your home country attacked him?"

"I would defend him, sir."

"What if your leader ordered you to harm him?"

"I would ignore those orders and defend America." Pyrrha stated. "Sir."

The President nodded. "I believe you. How did you gain this warrior's loyalty, America?"

"I don't know, sir." America said. He locked eyes with Pyrrha and winked. At least, Pyrrha assumed he winked because his other eye was covered.

"I should have guessed." The President held out his hand and one of the agents gave him a folder. He handed it to Pyrrha. "Here is your identification, passport, and paperwork, along with the documents for your employment as Alfred F. Jones' bodyguard."

Pyrrha blinked, gripping the folder. "I thought there was going to be a test?" she asked hesitantly.

The man coughed to hide his chuckle at her expression. "There is. You've got the basics down. My men just need to do a few physical tests with you and go over the training regime and you'll be golden." He smiled. "Congratulations."

She shook his hand, speechless.

The President's warm smile vanished and his eyes returned to Canada. "Send us what information you can about 'Atlas' and we will compile it into a decoy file for other nations' intelligence agencies."

"Yes, Mister President." Canada agreed steadily.

The President's green eyes glinted. "Although I do not know the whole story, I know enough that we will be making our own preparations in case more  _visitors_  decide to arrive." For a moment his gaze landed on Pyrrha, boring into her. "I hope we can trust your judgement."

Although he spoke to the room at large, Pyrrha knew there was a warning for her in there. If she did something they did not like, it would not end well for her. The champion kept her expression in check, revealing none of her unease.

"You can, sir." America responded for the twins.

The President's cold visage softened the slightest bit when at personification's reply. "I will contact your doctor and set up an appointment. Matthew—" Canada looked at him. "Please keep your brother out of trouble."

"Hey!" America squawked indignantly.

Canada jabbed him in the side with his elbow. "Always, sir."

The President smiled. "I'd better return to the office before the Senate or Congress get nosy. Don't worry; I'll keep your status under wraps for as long as I can."

"Thank you, sir." America said, his usual easy-going grin on his face.

The President chuckled. "Don't thank me, Alfred. You have plenty of paperwork to do once you've recovered."

He walked out as America groaned, putting his head in his hands. The agents all followed, with the original three lingering behind. The Secret Service agent handed Pyrrha a small card.

"Your test will be at this location. Don't be late."

With that, they left as well. Pyrrha, Alfred, and Matthew walked to the front and watched the cars outside leave. Canada flipped through the security feeds, spotting no one else on the property. The three walked back to the meeting room, searching it for any hidden bugs or devices, and found none. For a moment, they stood in silence, staring at each other.

Then Alfred slumped into a chair. "That was the most stressful thing ever."

Matthew slouched into another chair beside him. "That was nothing. Imagine having to do that with Congress and the Senate."

America winced. "I'm glad I don't. Dude, they kept staring at me like they found out I was  _terminally ill_."

"They're understandably upset about your amnesia." Canada soothed his brother. "I'm just relieved you got the President not to push for answers."

"Hey, I was telling the truth there." America said defensively. "I don't know what to tell them and what I shouldn't, and it's not like I remember everything. I don't want to give the wrong story and have my government declare a war on Remnant because I misunderstood something."

Canada winced. "A war would definitely be bad."

"Is one likely?" Pyrrha asked worriedly.

Matthew caught sight of her pale features and shrugged helplessly. "I cannot say. It depends on whether we can show that something like this  _cannot_  happen again. If the United Nations or governments of Earth see Remnant as a hostile threat…"

He trailed off, but Pyrrha understood the implications clearly enough. Her stomach twisted into knots.

America saw her distress and gripped her hand. "Hey, don't freak out about it. The governments will probably be pretty chill if we don't dump Atlas' transgressions on them all at once."

"And like I said, England and Tony are working on a device that will stop forces from Remnant from getting here again." Canada said. "That'll help convince the Earth not to retaliate."

The implications of their conversation were too horrifying for Pyrrha to be completely put at ease, but her upset stomach did calm a smidgeon. "I think I understand. Thank you for thinking of such things. I did not consider the possible repercussions."

"Atlas didn't either. If they did, we wouldn't be in this mess." Canada muttered. His violet eyes softened before Pyrrha could respond and he stood. "Come on, let's get changed. I don't like to stay in these any longer than I have to."

America grinned like a loon and bolted from the room, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran.

"FREEEEDDDOOOOOOOMMMM!" he shouted, voice growing distant as he retreated.

"Don't you  _dare_  ruin that suit, Al!" Canada bellowed, racing after his brother.

Pyrrha followed at a slower pace, her folder gripped in both hands. A thought nagged at the edge of her mind but she pushed it away, determined to not even consider it. England and Tony were creating something that would stop Remnant from returning to Earth, and that device could spare her world from a vicious war with the people they had wronged.

But that didn't mean they were making it so a way back to Remnant was impossible. They wouldn't do that her. She would still be able to get home someday.

XXXXXXX

Haven Academy was not what Ruby expected. The architecture was beautiful, the halls welcoming, the gates grand, but all that awe was snuffed out as RNJR and Qrow walked deeper into the grounds. The school was quiet, far too quiet. There was not a single student or teacher to be seen, and what should be a bustling ground for Huntsmen and Huntresses in training and their mentors instead felt like yet another abandoned village.

Ruby forced herself not to think about the last abandoned village they had been in. She opened her mouth to call out to see if anyone was there but a sharp look from Qrow silenced her. Her uncle claimed all the students and teachers were absent, and Ruby was inclined to believe him. That left only Lionheart here, alone in his office while his students and colleagues were who-knew-where.

 _That sounds lonely_ , Ruby mused. She shook herself.  _But if we're right about him, he's the reason why._

She desperately hoped their suspicions were wrong.

The group entered the building and headed up to the Headmaster's office in silence. Jaune's fingers drummed on Crocea Mors, Nora held Magnhild, and Ren's hands rested on StormFlower's hilts. Ruby found herself touching Crescent Rose and grimaced, scanning the silent halls warily. The thought they might be walking into a trap struck her and she held her breath, listening for any unusual sound. None came, no enemies sprang from the shadows, and they arrived at the Headmaster's office. Qrow raised his hand and knocked once.

"Come in," a male voice said.

Qrow opened the door, waving. "Hey, Leo—"

"You!"

Jaune's shout startled Ruby, Ren, and Nora into action, weapons whirring into their close-combat forms as soon as they were free of their sheaths. Qrow tensed as well, sword out and ready, and the man behind the desk froze, hands slightly raised. He blinked at Jaune— the only one not to unsheathe his weapon— and went round.

"You're that boy!"

"You're that guy!"

The blond teenager and grey-haired man spoke simultaneously, the former wearing a shocked expression while the latter looked stunned— and horrified?

Qrow lowered his weapon, hands twitching towards the pocket that held his flask. "I see you've met." He said flatly.

"Yeah, this is the man who helped me find books about Mistral." Jaune told him easily. His grateful expression froze on his face, hardening abruptly. "You… already knew?"

The man took a breath, hand to his chest. "A moment, please." Once he gathered himself— and no longer looked like he was about to have a heart attack— he laid his clasped hands on the desktop. "Let's start over, shall we? I am Professor Leo Lionheart."

"This is Jaune, Ruby, Nora, and Ren." Qrow said briefly, red eyes narrowed. "What the  _hell_ , Leo? You knew Neopolitan is Mistral?"

Ruby cringed at the sound of  _her_  name but said nothing. Jaune put a comforting hand on her arm and she gave him a grateful smile.

The Professor winced. "It is not what you think, Qrow. I did not find out her identity for myself until  _after_  Beacon fell. By that time, I had no way to contact you to inform you." His gaze slid over the piles of papers on his desk and Ruby saw the dark bags under his eyes. "Nor have I had the time."

"Well it wouldn't be the first time you failed to follow orders." Qrow growled, unsympathetic. "Where are all the Huntsmen that are supposed to be guarding the Relic of Knowledge, Leo?"

Lionheart glared at him, but even his ire was hindered by his obvious exhaustion. "Where do you  _think_  they are, Qrow? They're out trying to defend this Kingdom. After everyone saw that poor girl torn to pieces—" Ruby flinched but kept her tears at bay. "—and Beacon under attack by the Grimm, panic spread through Mistral. It attracted the Grimm in droves, and we've hardly a single Huntsman to spare." Lionheart stood abruptly, slamming one fist into his desk as the other jabbed at the closed window. "All of my students and teachers are  _out there_ , Qrow! They're out risking their lives trying to keep towns from falling to the Grimm." His expression crumbled. "The ones that are left, anyway…"

Ruby's heart squeezed but she bottled up her grief. Qrow was unmoved by his colleague's sorrow.

"You know the Relic is more important, Leo." Qrow said sternly.

Lionheart laughed bitterly. "Please, tell the Council that. I could not request that Huntsmen and Huntresses— or the students— stay here, even if I wanted to. Besides, the Relic is safe. The enemy does not know Mistral's identity."

"They do." Qrow growled. "Which means Mistral is next on their list of targets." His eyes narrowed. "Why the hell did you decide to look her up after all this time?"

"I wanted answers." Lionheart said softly, and both Jaune and Ruby flinched. "And I hoped that Mistral would be able to help us somehow if we found her. However, while I was able to identify her, I could not locate her."

Qrow's furious visage faded and he straightened, crossing his arms. "You're in luck. We've figured out where Neo is. We've narrowed it down to Wind Path and Kuchinashi."

"You  _have?_ " Some of the weight lifted off Lionheart's shoulders and he stood with much more energy than he had previously. "We must retrieve her."

"Glad you agree." Qrow said lazily. "We could use some additional Huntsmen to help out."

Lionheart grimaced, his joy snuffed out like a dying candle. "That will take time. The Mistral High Council does not accept Neo's existence, nor do they know about the Relic. Unless you intend to inform and convince them of both, they will drag their heels and insist we use resources for more important missions."

"The Relic and Mistral are the damn most important missions there is." Qrow said. "You have to convince them, Leo."

"I can try, but it will take time." Lionheart said tiredly.

"We don't  _have_  time." Qrow snapped.

Ruby bit her lip, unsettled by her uncle's lack of tact. She knew he was blunt by nature, the Relic was important, and Lionheart may be playing them all for fools, but Qrow was being… well…  _mean_. It sounded childish, even in the safety of Ruby's head, but a part of her wanted to tell her uncle to be nicer to Lionheart. The guy looked close to a mental breakdown.

"I cannot magically conjure up Huntsmen, Qrow." Lionheart said wearily. "But I will do my best. If you do not mind, I'd appreciate you leaving me to it."

"Fine." Qrow nodded sharply and turned on his heel.

"Wait." Jaune blurted. He stopped in front of Lionheart and bowed slightly. "Thank you for pointing me to those books, sir. They helped a lot."

A few of the stress-lines on Lionheart's face eased and he smiled. "You are most welcome, young man. I am glad they assisted you."

RNJR and Qrow left, and the door shut behind them. For a time, none of them spoke.

Then Qrow scoffed. "Leo's acting shady."

"Is he?" Nora questioned. "'Cause to me  _you_  were kind of acting like a jerk."

She shrugged unapologetically when he glared at her.

Qrow huffed. "Leo's used to my attitude. And he knows how important the Relic and Mistral are."

"Maybe he has other priorities." Ren suggested calmly. "His Kingdom is in trouble and he did not have a way to contact you once the CCT tower went down."

"Hmm." Qrow grunted, disbelieving. His red eyes settled on Jaune and Ruby. "What do you think, kids?"

"He seemed tired and stressed." Ruby mentioned.

"I noticed that too." Jaune added. "I'm not sure if I trust him, though."

Ruby's eyebrows shot up. "What? B-But you thanked him."

"That doesn't mean I trust his word." The knight said gravely.

As Ruby tried to process that, Qrow chuckled, shaking his head. "At least one of you is suspicious."

"Yeah, I've learned not to take superiors' claims at face value." Jaune said stiffly.

Ruby recalled what he had told her earlier and grimaced. She didn't want to believe more information was intentionally being kept from her. Qrow and Ozpin weren't keeping more secrets. They just hadn't gotten around to talking to her about how she disintegrated those Grimm yet. That was all.

"So what do we do now?" Nora asked.

"We prepare." Qrow said. "Once we have what we need, we'll search ourselves, with or without the Council's permission."

"Isn't that illegal?" Ruby asked.

"We're going to a city that runs on illegal, kiddo." Qrow reminded her. "I don't think they'll care."

"So nothing's changed." Ren said.

"Except we don't have additional help." Nora pointed out.

"That is why you'll be using the time before we go to train." Qrow informed them. "Unless I can find some old friends, we're on our own, which means you four will have to pick up the slack. We might face some heavy hitters in those cities."

"We'll be ready." Ruby promised as Jaune nodded in silent agreement.

She would keep that vow.

They wouldn't lose anyone this time.


	8. Trauma

The barkeep stared at Yang while he worked. She was used to catching attention in places like this, usually followed by comments on whether she was too young to be here but the man had yet to speak, watching her carefully as she moved through the aisles and picked up a few items for the road. She approached the counter and he scanned her items.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" he asked.

She looked over her sunglasses and smiled. "Water, please."

"Of course." The man said.

The barkeep got her drink, glancing at her as he poured. He set the water in front of her, hesitation clear in every nervous movement.

"Problem?" Yang asked as she took a gulp.

He swallowed. "You're that girl from the news."

Yang tensed, gripping her metal wrist with her flesh one. "Yes?" she forced out.

The barkeep avoided her gaze. "Nothing. Here's your change."

He fled to the other side of the counter. Yang put her change in her pocket and scowled at her drink. She wasn't surprised by his fear of her.

Everyone knew about her assault of Alfred. Almost everyone in every Kingdom saw it, live or through coverage on the news. Yang could not say why the Council in Vale had let such a story be broadcasted and discussed so frequently— potential distress and discord were usually reason enough for them to silence the news— but since it was already public, they had probably wanted people to know the perpetrator had been arrested and wouldn't hurt anyone else.

Then the fall of Beacon had happened before Yang could prove her innocence.

As a result, her travels had not been as pleasant as she wished. Some people probably thought she was fleeing Vale to avoid justice, and with the CCT down and inter-Kingdom relations in the dumps, no one would arrest her. A few people— like the captain of the ship she had ridden on— had been friendly but most people that recognized her avoided her like the plague. Either that or they glared suspiciously at her when they thought she wouldn't notice.

Yang was already growing numb to their ire. She didn't care about the public's perception of her. She needed to find Ruby. And Alfred, so she could beg for forgiveness. From both of them.

Yang's robotic arm trembled. She gripped it with her flesh hand until it stilled. She'd been so caught up in her own suffering that she let Ruby go to Mistral without her. Ruby had lost an eye, but had she wallowed in self-pity for weeks? No. She got up and kept fighting. Yang wished she could be so strong.

But that was in the past. She'd make it up to Ruby and Alfred and all the others. She'd find her sister and be there for her as she should have been from the beginning. Which was why Yang was here instead of on her way to Mistral. Ruby might not have made it to the city itself, and even if she did, Yang had no way to find her there.

That was why Yang needed to locate Raven Branwen.

Yang's stomach curled in disgust and she set her water down. Dad had told her what type of woman her absent mother was, and Yang could not say she was looking forward to meeting her. It was fine though. She'd deal. The meeting wouldn't be for happy family bonding times, and if Raven thought it would be, she'd get a harsh wake-up call.

Speaking of her dearest mother…

Yang watched a sleazy-looking man approach her, a confident smirk on his face. He leaned against the counter beside her, oozing arrogance from every pore.

"Hey, beautiful." He crooned. "What's a pretty thing like you traveling alone out here?"

Yang kept a tight hold on her temper and smiled sweetly. "Oh, I'm looking for Raven Branwen."

The man blinked and chuckled condescendingly. "Really? You a bounty hunter or something, sweet thing?"

Yang fantasized about punching him in the face and knocking out every single one of his teeth. "No. I'm her  _daughter_ , and I think it's about time we meet."

She let her eyes flash red. The man froze, eyes widening with panic. Yang kept her cheerful smile and leaned in close, pleased when he leaned away nervously.

"See, I'm not in the mood for games. I know you're one of her tribesmen. You've been hanging out here and bothering the locals for weeks. Everyone's complaining about you. Quietly, of course. But I've become a good listener." She winked. "You aren't very good at covering your tracks, you know. So…" She laid her metal hand on his bicep, fingers clenching just enough to make him flinch. "How about we skip all the useless flirting and you take me to see your leader?"

Like all cowards, the bandit crumbled instantly when faced with a threat that could defend themselves. Yang could see his regret for approaching the beautiful, blonde-haired girl at the bar and thinking he could try something. She thought about all the people he must have bothered and threatened before and her grip tightened, making him squeak in pain.

"Okay. I'll take you to her." He said nervously.

Yang released him. "Excellent. Lead the way."

They exited the store together, and Yang felt the barkeep's eyes on her back as the door closed. She didn't care what he was thinking. The public was already against her, and that wouldn't change for a long time. She could accept it, as long as she could be there for Ruby and the others.

She would never abandon her family again.

XXXXXXX

_The click of a metal lock shifting startled America from sleep. The nation's eyes snapped open and he sat up, watching warily as the door to their cell was unlocked. Canada was already awake and alert, violet eyes fearful, and America quickly set his glare in place in preparation for their captors' entrance. It would most likely be the soldiers that came in with food again. There were no clocks or windows to tell the passage of time, but based on the number of meals they had been brought, it had been a few days since the nations first woke up._

_The General had yet to return and while America was gnawing at the bit to hurl insults and threats at the man, he also prayed he did not show up for a while. It was obvious that the General was in charge and if the man in charge appeared, bad things were going to happen. After the terrifying showcase of their 'Aura's' capabilities, America was not eager to see what else their captors had in store for them._

_The door opened to reveal the General. Canada went still, not moving a muscle._

_America sneered. "You finally decided to grace us with your evil presence. I'm so glad. I was starting to miss you."_

_The General ignored him, instead nodding to a soldier that brought him a chair. The soldier backed out and the General sat, stiff-backed and hands clasped in his lap. "I apologize for the delay. I meant to return sooner, but had other priorities."_

" _Oh, it's fine." America said sarcastically. "We had nothing better to do than wait in chains."_

_He rattled the links connecting him to the wall for emphasis. Canada shot him a glance, expression pleading with him not to agitate their captor but knew his silent words of caution fell on deaf ears._

_The General did not appear to be annoyed by his prisoner's mouth. "I promised you I would explain some things and I intend to do that now. I would appreciate it if you did not interrupt."_

_His tone was calm, his words were polite, but America knew there was a threat in there. He did not respond, settling for glowering at the General._

" _My name is General James Ironwood of Atlas, a Kingdom of Remnant." Their captor began. "Remnant is not like your world, Earth. Its people are capable of feats your people would see as superhuman, though not all have the capacity to use Aura or Semblances. Some are normal, and so others must fight to protect those normal people… from creatures known as Grimm."_

_Grimm. The name was so simple, yet it sent a chill up America's spine._

" _Grimm are creatures of destruction." Ironwood said coldly. "They lack a soul, and their only purpose is to eliminate mankind. They are drawn to negative feelings—envy, sadness, loneliness, and hatred— often congregating towards the source of these emotions, and as such they are a constant, looming threat to this world and those that inhabit it."_

_Canada listened intently, but America did not appreciate the lesson._

" _What does any of that have to do with us?" he demanded. "Why are we here?"_

" _I cannot tell you." Ironwood said bluntly. His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened they were hard as ice. "I truly am sorry."_

_He stood up and knocked on the door. A man in a lab coat came in pushing a cart, and America stomach dropped when he saw its contents. Syringes, vials, bandages, and other items commonly found in a horror movie were neatly laid out on a sheet, glinting in the light of the cell. America heard Canada stifle a gasping wheeze, his features paling drastically. The new man— scientist?— looked in the northern nation's direction and America's heart went into overdrive._

" _Don't touch him!" he spat, struggling against his bonds._

_A surge of electricity went through the metal, and America shuddered before going limp. Hands touched his face and he flinched, eyes snapping open to see the scientist there. A wrinkled face stared back at him, with balding white hair and full bear like Santa's. His eyes were soft instead of cold and gleeful like he expected, and if America didn't know any better he'd say the aged man looked like a grandfatherly type of guy._

" _Please calm down." He said, voice a deep, soothing baritone. "I'm not about to cut you up." His eyes darkened. "Yet."_

_America recoiled, breath freezing in his chest._

_Ironwood shifted and sighed. "Doctor—"_

" _Don't 'doctor' me." The doctor snapped. "You wanted my expertise so you let me into this project. You can't kick me out. And I refuse to lie to the children you've chosen to abduct."_

" _They are not children, doctor. They aren't even human." Ironwood said stiffly._

" _And of course that makes all of this morally sound." The doctor sniffed. He looked between America and Canada, the kind expression returning. "I'm going to be truthful with you. Today I merely need some blood samples, but eventually they will want to test your healing factors and Auras. They will test you to see if your bodies can accept the Aura of—"_

" _Remember your place, Doctor." The General warned icily. "Regardless of what you think, you_ _ **can**_ _be replaced."_

" _Unlikely. There are few who share my expertise in my field." The doctor growled. He stood and grabbed some equipment. "Surely we can do this in a better environment?"_

" _They will remain restrained here until I say otherwise." Ironwood said._

_The doctor snorted. "Of course. When_ _**you** _ _say." He turned back to the twins, needles and vials in hand. "Who would like to go first?"_

" _Me." America blurted. "Then you don't have to take Canada's. We're twins."_

" _I'm afraid that does not mean your blood is the same." The doctor said, sounding honestly apologetic._

_The chains holding America to the wall shifted, letting his arms lay at his sides. He considered trying to grab the doctor but wasn't keen on receiving another electric shock. They'd have to bide their time and figure out an escape. America looked past the doctor at his brother, refusing to flinch at the prick of the needle. He caught a stream of red in his peripheral but forced his eyes away, determined not to panic. He hated bloodwork on a normal day but this was worse. That didn't mean he was going to let his captors scare him so easily. America winced as the needle was removed. The doctor made to apply a bandage, only to pause, wiping at the crook of his arm._

" _There's no hole. It's already sealed." He murmured. "Fascinating."_

This is my nightmare _, America thought._

_The doctor went to Canada. The northern nation was pale and sickly-looking by the time he was done, and America couldn't say whether it was because of their situation or simple wooziness from the loss of plasma. The doctor rose and with one final glare in Ironwood's direction, knocked on the door and was let out. The General stayed behind, expression stiff like he was trying to hide something. Eventually, he spoke._

" _You are prisoners here, but that does not mean you need to be uncomfortable. If you want something, just ask and I will try to provide it."_

" _We want you to let us go." America stated._

_The General avoided his gaze. "I cannot do that. I'm sorry."_

_Ironwood turned away from him and walked out, leaving them alone in the cell once more._

America jerked out of the nightmare, heart pounding in his throat. He sat up, eyes darting left and right, and relaxed upon recognizing his bedroom. He tensed up again when someone knocked on his door.

"Alfred?" Pyrrha's voice came through the thin wood. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." America said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "Just fine."

There was a beat of silence. Then the door opened and the red-haired girl stepped inside. She padded over to the bed, footsteps unnecessarily soft, and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I heard you cry out."

He had screamed? Nothing in this nightmare had been particularly scream-worthy.

_But if I'm right, they might be soon…_  Alfred shuddered and shoved those types of thoughts away. "I'm good."

He could feel Pyrrha's worried eyes on him. "Do you want me to wake Matthew?"

_And tell him what? That I figured out we got dissected?_ "No thank you. I'm fine. Really."

She sighed. "If you're sure. Goodnight, Alfred."

"Night, Py-Py."

She retreated and shut the door, leaving America in the dark. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, tracing invisible swirls in the darkness.

" _I'm not about to cut you up._ _ **Yet**_ _."_

America shivered and wrapped the blankets tighter around him, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart. He didn't get another wink of sleep that night, and was not sure he could complain. He did not want to dream of another memory. Not with what he suspected he would remember next.

XXXXXXX

America was acting oddly.

Canada noticed it as soon as he woke up— on the floor and under his mattress, as usual— this morning, and it bothered him all day. America threw himself into the day with his normal enthusiasm— which doubled when he began going through the different security systems with Tony— but Canada could clearly see he was tired. His visible blue eye was reddened and had a dark splotch below it, he occasionally flinched like he'd startled himself, and his smiles were often strained. He spent the whole day flitting about with a nervous energy, moving from thing to thing and person to person like he couldn't bear to sit still. He was clearly stressed, and Canada had no clue why.

Canada was not the only one to notice his distress, for when Tony left the American alone for a while, he returned with a familiar bomber jacket and offered it to Alfred. At first, Canada did not understand what the alien was doing, but recalled America mentioning the jacket made him feel safe in a rare moment of transparency from his normally boisterous bro.

America accepted the jacket and inspected the fifty on the back, looking at his alien friend curiously. "What's this?"

"It's yours." Tony informed him. "You always wore it."

"Oh." America hesitantly put it on, visibly relaxing once it fell onto his shoulders. "Feels warm." He mumbled. A pained look crossed his face, almost too quickly to see. He abruptly took the jacket off. "I'll hang it up in my room. Thanks, Tony."

He retreated before the alien or Canada could respond. The two looked at each other for a stretched pause, stunned by his abrupt departure.

"What was that about?" Canada asked rhetorically.

Tony shrugged, slumping. "I think I upset him."

Neither could figure out why, and when America returned with Pyrrha he was all forced smiles and laughter. Canada tried to get his brother to open up, but a wall had been erected around Alfred, keeping even his twin out. Try as he might, Canada could not figure out what had changed. The only hint he got was from Pyrrha, of all people.

"I think Al— America had a nightmare last night." She mentioned after she noticed Canada watching America a little too closely during lunch. "He refuses to share what it was about."

After that little revelation, all attempts to corner his brother failed. America vanished into the lab, or went to visit Whale, or went to talk to Uni, or had to find Americat, or read some 'new' comic books, or had anything better to do than  _sit still for two seconds_  and let Canada talk to him. Matthew was beginning to become rather frustrated with his brother's evasion. First he hid the details of what happened with him, Roman, Neo and Mercury, then the pain he received from Vale, and now this? It hurt to think that America would not go to Canada— would not  _trust_  him— with his troubles, but there was little more he could do than hope that changed.

The ringing of the doorbell at approximately five o'clock in the afternoon was completely unexpected. The nations were not supposed to arrive until tomorrow, and all of them knew it. Canada considered running upstairs to retrieve Maple Frost but stayed in place when America emerged from the hall. Pyrrha strode to the security feeds, waving her hand to silently stop the twin from approaching the door. America lingered in the doorway he had exited from, head tilted in a way that reminded Canada of a curious kitten, so he grasped his brother's arm, giving him a warning glare to stay put. America pouted but allowed Pyrrha to study their visitors.

Pyrrha checked the feed and stared. "It's Australia and… a white bear?"

"Kuma!" Canada beamed and ran to the door, throwing it open.

Kumajirou wiggled out of Australia's hold and ran to Canada, leaping into his waiting arms. The violet-eyed nation laughed and the bear nuzzled the nation's neck furiously, sniffing as if taking in his scent. The familiar weight and softness drained his worries away, and he relaxed.

"I missed you." Canada said.

Kumapanko leaned his head against his owner's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I missed you too, Canada."

"Talking bear…" Pyrrha whispered.

Australia stepped into the mansion, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Sorry about taking so long to get him here. He's been hanging between my and Cuba's places and loathed it the whole time."

"It was too hot." Kumafranco told Canada. "I liked staying at France's house but I had to leave when he went to rescue you."

Canada hugged his bear tighter, pressing his cheek against his furry head. "I'm glad you didn't go. Remnant was very dangerous and scary, Kumamomo."

"Isn't his name Kumajirou?" America asked hesitantly.

Canada frowned. "No—"

"Yes, it is." Australia confirmed. "Canada can never remember it."

As the violet-eyed twin scowled, America giggled. "Dude, I have  _amnesia_  and I still remember your bear's name better than you."

Canada huffed and kicked his brother 'lightly' in the shin. America hardly winced. Canada forgot about Aura for a second there. Damn it, he should have kicked harder.

"I'll have you know that I have a great memory." He sniffed, trying to piece his injured pride back together. "As a matter of—" He froze, unintentionally squeezing Kumajirou. The bear whined in protest and Canada relaxed his grip. "Sorry."

The bear cocked his head. "Who are you?"

What had become an old joke between them had the opposite effect on Canada. His breathing stuttered. "I'm C-Canada."

America stopped laughing, brow furrowing. "You okay, bro?"

"I'm fine." Canada said. "I just, uh, remembered something important I have to do. I'll be right back."

Carrying Kuma, he fled the room, running to his bedroom and shutting the door quietly behind him. Once he was certain no one followed him, Canada sat on his bed, trembling. In all the chaos surrounding Prussia's injury, Tyrian, Kuroyuri, and America, his Semblance had completely slipped his mind. Icy terror pierced his core when he considered that maybe it  _wasn't_  the hectic nature of his life that made him forget, but his Semblance itself.

_I already made myself forget things before. Did I do it again, unintentionally?_  Canada took a calming breath.  _No, that's not it. It would take more than this to trigger the forgotten memories._  A hysterical giggle bubbled up in his chest.  _And I nagged America about_ _ **his**_ _disassociation. Oh Maple, what do I do?_

"Canada? What's wrong?" Kumajirou asked, noticing his owner's distress.

"Nothing, Kuma." Canada lied. "Everything's fine."

Even if he tried to explain, the bear wouldn't understand. So Canada sat in silence, holding Kuma as he struggled not to cry. A tap made him look up to see his brother standing in the doorway. America crept in and sat next to Canada on the bed, fidgeting and gnawing on his lip.

"Are you… okay?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm as fine as you." Canada snapped.

His twin flinched and Matthew instantly regretted his harsh words. It was too late to take them back, and America soon recovered from his instinctive hurt, running an agitated hand through his hair.

"We're not very good at this 'no lies' thing, huh?" America chuckled humorlessly.

"We're lying to ourselves and each other." Canada admitted with equal sardonicism.

"…I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." America whispered.

Canada gulped but nodded. "Deal."

They shook on it and sat in silence. Neither was willing to go first and in the silence, Canada's panic crept back, clogging his throat. His forgotten disgust crawled through his skin like bugs and all his insecurities rushed back with it. Why did his Semblance have to be something so  _vile_? It not only allowed him to manipulate others, but it let him delude himself. He didn't know his own capabilities and limits, but the only way to test those limits would be to subject someone to his Semblance and mess with their minds and memories. Canada nearly retched at the implications, causing America to look at him in alarm.

"Mattie—"

"I have a memory-erasing Semblance." Canada blurted.

America stared at him, saying nothing.

"I didn't erase your m-memories!" Canada stammered as he rushed to clarify his words. "Not this time. I-I did before but it was an accident, I didn't mean to, but I mean— It just  _happened_. I didn't mean to.  _I-I-I_  didn't mean— It— It was all the stuff with the lab, and I did it to myself too I didn't know I could do that, I s-swear—!"

America's arms wrapped around him, squishing Kuma between them. The bear did not appear to mind.

"Hey, calm down. Breathe. I believe you." His brother said soothingly. His expression grew pinched. "How long have you been keeping this to yourself?"

Canada's giggle was just a  _little_  bit strangled. As in he sounded like someone was closing their hands around his throat. "I figured it out on Remnant after Prussia was hurt but I forgot. I don't know if I forgot, or if I  _made_ myself forget. Kuma made me remember because he always asks who I am as a joke but the nations always used to forget me for real and of course my Semblance has something to do with that because I'm just damn forgettable,  _right_?"

With every word, Canada's voice grew more hysterical. Maybe that was why his Semblance erased his memory of it— if it did— because he was not handling it well, not at all, not in the slightest bit, nope nope nope—

" _Breathe_ , Mattie." America ordered, and Canada recalled Qrow saying nearly the same thing.

He tried to breathe. He did. The air refused to listen, going in and out too quickly and leaving him lightheaded. Why did his Semblance have to be  _this_? Why couldn't it be  _anything_  else? He was a good person— at least he thought he was— so how the hell did a power based on his personality turn out to be a type of mind manipulation? It was like Emerald and her hallucinations. And it wasn't even  _intentional_. He erased his and America's memories of the lab, a hotel owner's memories of a conversation, and Russia's memories of Aura, at  _least_ ; all without noticing what he was doing. America's arms tightened around him, and it was only then that Canada realized he had spoken aloud.

"I can't believe I have to tell you you're a good person, Mattie." His brother said sternly. "Your Semblance is not your fault. We just have to figure out ways for you to control it."

"What if I can't?" Canada whispered. "What if it's a passive ability? I don't know if I was too busy to remember my Semblance, or if I  _actually_  blocked off and erased my memories of it." He trembled. "I could  _destroy_  people, Al. Memories are so important to who people are, and I could take them away. I could erase everything that they are and leave a blank husk behind."

A shiver went through his brother. "I understand that better than most people." America said. "I also know that'll never happen. You might be able to manipulate yourself subconsciously, but I bet something needs to trigger the erasure in other people. Maybe you need to touch them, or say something specific. Otherwise you'd be erasing memories you don't want people to recall left and right."

Canada cringed, shrinking in on himself.

America poked him in the forehead. "Stop that. You are the nicest, kindest, best person ever, and just because your powers are mind-based doesn't mean you're evil."

"Tell that to every psychic supervillain ever." Matthew mumbled.

"Tell that to Charles Xavier." Alfred retorted.

Canada's lips twitched despite himself. "You've started reading X-Men, then? You do know Xavier is a telepath, right?"

"Yep. But memory erasure is totally one of his powers and he's a good guy." America insisted.

Using comic books to support him was such an America thing to do that Canada couldn't help but smile fully. "He isn't the nicest guy all the time." He pointed out weakly.

"Which is why you're better than him." America informed him stubbornly. "I'm not going to let you beat yourself up over something you can't control. We'll figure this out and make sure your powers don't hurt anybody on accident."

He sounded so certain Canada had to believe him. "Okay." He whispered. "Um… could we not tell anyone else about my Semblance yet? Please?"

America frowned slightly, blue eye staring directly into his brother's violet. "I think we should at least tell Pyrrha. She knows more about Semblances than anyone else here so she might be able to help."

Canada swallowed hard. "That's fine. I… I suppose we'll also need someone to test my Semblance on." He cringed. "Don't volunteer. You've lost enough memories."

"I'll do it." Kuma said before America could reply. He looked at his owner, blinking big black eyes. "I don't know what 'Semblances' are but if you need to learn to control the memory power, I'll help."

"I can't do that to you, Kumajirou." Canada whispered.

The bear's head tipped. "Then who will you do it to?"

Canada did not have an answer. He wiped his hand over his eyes and looked to his brother. "My part of the deal's done. So what's been bothering you all day?"

America tensed and chuckled awkwardly. Canada was beginning to sense a reemerging trend with his brother covering his discomfort with laughter. On the one hand, that was an America thing to do. On the other, he wished Alfred would just tell him what was wrong instead of hiding it.

"Uh, well. We have a theme going on today!" his twin said in a voice filled with false cheer. He shifted his weight on the bed. "I remembered a bit of our…  _stay_  in Atlas."

A chill went up Canada's spine. Sensing his owner's alarm, Kumajirou pressed his warm fur against the violet-eyed twin's chest, but the warmth did not reach Matthew's clammy skin.

"What did you remember?" he forced himself to ask.

"The first time that doctor guy came in. He took a sample of our blood." America's tone grew neutral, as if he were giving an impassionate report. He met Canada's eyes and a spark of fear entered his visible blue iris. Canada saw his Adam's apple bob.

"Mattie… did they dissect us?" America asked in a choked voice.

Canada's first instinct was to lie, to reassure his brother that his fears were unfounded. His second instinct was to hug his brother and take those awful thoughts away, only to recoil in self-loathing as he realized what he was considering. After a brief internal struggle, Canada commanded his head to nod.

"Eventually they began to test our healing factor." He forced out. "That… That included testing how long it took for us to heal from grievous injuries."

The knowledge of the experiments was there, but the memories did not come forth, much to Canada's relief. He had to thank his Semblance— or his mundane denial— for protecting him from those horrific days, but feared the memories of what he tried to forget would finally come to haunt him later. America paled drastically, and Kuma clambered into his arms, letting the southern nation cling to him like a lifeline.

He licked his lips, clearly trying not to panic. Or throw up. "I see. Does anyone else know?"

"They suspect." Canada said. "None of them have brought it up." Their discretion was likely to keep the twins from flashing back to any of it. Or they themselves were in denial about what the twins went through and didn't want their fears confirmed.

"I'm going to remember." America whispered. "The other memories… it's been like I was living through them again when I got them back. I could  _feel_  everything."

Canada's stomach lurched and his gorge rose. He took a few calming breaths to beat back the nausea. The memories prodded at his consciousness but they remained distant, and thus were harmless. Back on Remnant, there had been no time to process what exactly had happened to him and Alfred in the lab, but now there were no urgent missions to complete, no brothers to find, no people to save. They were home after the battle, but they would not find peace.

"Al, when is your doctor appointment?" he asked.

"In a couple days. Why?"

"I think we need therapy." Canada admitted. "Or we will, soon. We might as well inform him and start when we're ahead."

America stayed quiet for a long time. Then he gave another, bitter laugh. "Atlas really messed us up, didn't they?"

"Yeah." Canada murmured. "They did."


	9. Well of Lies

Ruby shrieked as she hastily blocked a strike from Ozpin, who currently held control of his and Oscar's body. The 'younger' boy smiled and swept her feet out from under her and sending her flat on her back. Over to the side, Jaune stopped sparring with Ren to glance at Ruby in concern. Nora had no such worries and cackled at the silver-eyed girl's misfortune.

Ruby whined and laid her head on the dirt. "Cheater."

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Rose." Ozpin said pleasantly, posture lax but perfectly poised. "Perhaps this will teach you not to bask in small victories."

Ruby turned red. That wasn't fair. She'd just bounced in excitement a  _little bit_  when she got a hit in on Oscar. Then Ozpin had taken control and showed her how much more she needed to learn. Which was a lot.

Which might be the point…

She sighed. "Fine. I get it." Ozpin helped her up and she brushed off her clothes. "I know I really need to work on hand to hand, but can we do something else?" she begged, not keen on continuing to get her butt kicked.

Ozpin's lips twitched into a smile. "You will not get better if you do not practice, Ms. Rose."

"I know, but it's not like I can improve that much in a few weeks and I think I've eaten enough dirt today." Ruby muttered. Even Yang wasn't this hard on her during training and Yang was the kind of teacher who launched herself at her poor little sister while telling her to dodge.

Ozpin's amusement was clear, as was his knowing look. "If you have any suggestions for training, I am open to them. As long as you do not avoid working on your weaknesses."

"I won't." Ruby promised. She touched her eyepatch briefly before letting her hand fall. "Professor? There's something I've been meaning to ask you but I didn't really have time before."

"Yes, Ms. Rose?" Ozpin encouraged.

Ruby could feel Jaune, Nora, and Ren's eyes on her. They knew exactly what she was going to say, because she had brought it up herself this morning. "If you don't mind, I'd like to work on that thing I did to disintegrate the Grimm too."

Ozpin stiffened, his hands clenching around the cane. He closed his too-old eyes and sighed. "I suppose Mister Arc told you about that?"

"Yeah, but I remembered what I did once he mentioned it." Ruby said, determined to clarify that. It was her decision to bring up her eyes— well, eye— no one else's. She stood taller, back straight. "I'd like to learn how to use them. If I can control them I can stop us from getting overwhelmed by Grimm again."

_And we won't be too late to save people next time._

Ozpin looked across the courtyard at the remnants of Team JNPR. The three looked back, unashamed, and unwilling to leave to give him and Ruby privacy to talk. Ruby did not  _want_  them to leave. They deserved to know as much as she did, not only because of her and Jaune's promise but…

…but also because Pyrrha died when Ruby's power might have saved her.

Ruby knew none of them thought that, but Ruby did. If she had unlocked that silver light power just a  _little_  earlier, they could have defeated the Nuckelavee sooner and saved Pyrrha and the others. Ruby's guilt and grief clawed at her throat but she smothered it, waiting patiently for Ozpin to speak.

"That power is what is known as Silver Eyes." Ozpin revealed. "It is a rare trait passed down through generations. Not much is known about them, only what can be gleaned from legends that told of the Silver-Eyed Warriors, people who could freeze and destroy Grimm with a stare." His eyes closed sorrowfully. "Your mother had them, and you do as well."

 _Mom?_  Ruby blinked back tears, a question on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it. "Where do Silver Eyes come from?" she asked instead.

"Even I do not have all the answers." Ozpin admitted. "The exact origin of the Silver Eyes is unknown to me, though I do have my theories."

"Could you share them?" Ruby asked hopefully.

Ozpin inclined his head. "Very well. Your eyes may be a gift from the God of Light, the Creation Relic, or even the Destruction Relic considering they destroy Grimm. Or they may simply be created from the very energies of this world."

"What do you mean by that?" Nora asked.

Ozpin smiled thinly. "Magic, Ms. Valkyrie. I myself can use it— though not to the extent I once could— and Ruby's Silver Eyes may come from a similar source. There is no way to know, for those tales have become lost in time."

Ruby considered his words carefully, nodding to herself. "So… can you teach me to use them?"

"Yes, but not yet." Ozpin said, gaze focused on his hands. "To train the Silver Eyes, one must be in a more… isolated area than the middle of a city. I'm afraid we do not have time for such trips at the moment. In the future, I will assist you once Mistral and the Relic are secure, but not before."

"Okay." Ruby agreed. "Thank you for telling us about them."

Ozpin's eyes softened. "I have no reason not to inform you of their existence. I simply assumed you did not recall. And considering the… nature of the awakening, I did not want to remind you."

His eyes fluttered, slipping closed, and he slumped. Ruby dashed forward and caught Oscar before he could fall. The boy smiled tightly and put a hand to his head.

"I'm fine." He insisted. "Headache."

"I'm not surprised. It can't be fun having two minds in there." Jaune said, helping support the boy. "Is Ozpin still awake?"

Oscar's eyes glazed and he nodded. "Yes. He says you should seek out a local blacksmith and upgrade your armor. You have outgrown your current set."

Jaune nodded. "Got it."

He seemed more relaxed than he had been a few minutes ago, and Ruby could guess the reason why. She could hardly believe Ozpin answered her questions so readily when Qrow had refused to tell Jaune before. Maybe her uncle wasn't sure that was what Ozpin would want. It made her wonder if he had made any other decisions the former Headmaster would disagree with.

 _Or maybe he didn't actually tell us everything_ —

Oscar stood unsteadily, body shifted to one side as he nursed his head. "I think I'm going to go sit down." He said.

"Do you need help?" Ruby asked.

Oscar shook his head and regretted it instantly, his other hand joining the first at his temples. "I can do it. You keep training. I'll send out Qrow."

He staggered back into their current living quarters. The four teens watched him go and went back to their sparring, with Ruby facing Nora— who needed to work on her speed— and Jaune facing Ren— who needed more durability training. The hammer-wielding girl lowered her weapon without striking, shoulders slumped.

"…They're still hiding things from us, aren't they?" she questioned rhetorically.

Ruby sighed tiredly, ignoring the squeezing in her chest. "Yeah. I think they are."

XXXXXXX

Oscar Pine was having an…  _interesting_  time. Not everyone woke up one day with a voice in their head, left their home, found the comrades of said voice, and joined them in a quest to save the world. And yet here he was, taking part in the prelude to the before-mentioned world-saving. It might be amazing if not for the fear, worry, stress, and skull-splitting headache he was currently dealing with.

He lay in a chair in their suite, a cool washcloth over his eyes as Ozpin apologized softly to him. They were still working out the shared-mind thing and it was often Oscar who dealt with the painful aftermath if Ozpin stayed in control for too long. A clink startled him and he sat up, the washcloth falling onto his chest.

Qrow snorted and gestured at the steaming mug of coffee he'd placed on the tabletop beside him. "Thought you might like this."

"Thanks." Oscar said, picking up the cup. He breathed in the soothing aroma and raised it to his lips, only to freeze and lower it. "Oh, I forgot to send you out to train the others. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You have a lot on your mind." Qrow said easily, waving off his apology.

"Yeah…" Oscar hesitated, shifting the mug and letting the coffee within it ripple. "I was just wondering why you didn't tell Ruby and the others about the Silver Eyes sooner."

Qrow blinked. "She asked? Huh."

" _I too was surprised by Ms. Rose's straightforwardness."_  Ozpin admitted.  _"It seems she has learned to question the world and demand answers, though I suppose we brought that upon ourselves."_

"Are you talking about the nations of Remnant and the Relics?" Oscar asked hesitantly.

There was a pause from his… head-roommate.  _"Yes. Among other things."_

"What 'other things'? Are you keeping more secrets from them?" Oscar asked bluntly.

Qrow did not reply.

The voice in Oscar's head hesitated.  _"…Yes. Though even I have been left out of the loop as of late."_

When he said nothing more, Oscar looked to Qrow. Belatedly, he realized the man could not hear Ozpin and so repeated the former Headmaster's response. Qrow grimaced and leaned forward, red eyes locked onto Oscar's.

"You sure you want to tell him, Oz? That might not be a good idea." he cautioned.

" _We need to have this conversation, and Oscar cannot be left out of it."_  Ozpin said, and Oscar repeated.

Qrow sighed heavily, fingers twitching towards his flask. He restrained himself. "Listen, kid. You cannot tell  _anyone_ about what we're about to discuss. Not a one."

"I won't." Oscar promised.

"The people who 'died' in Kuroyuri aren't dead. They were transported to another world." Qrow said bluntly.

Oscar stared at him mutely, thoughts screeching to a halt.

"And we know this because they aren't people, but immortal nations from that world." Qrow continued. "They had a way to return home, and I bet they took Nikos with them too."

Memories that were not his own rushed through Oscar's mind and they filled in the spaces in Qrow's brusque statements. Alfred F. Jones was America and Vale. Matthew Williams was Canada and Mantle. Arthur, Francis, Kiku, Ivan, Feliciano, Gilbert, and Ludwig were nations as well. They were from a planet called 'Earth' and came to Remnant to save America and Canada from Atlas, who had kidnapped them, only to find the missing twins in Beacon…

" _We aren't like your nations." The one truly called 'Prussia' said. "When our bodies are mortally wounded we slip into a coma. Most of the time we heal and awaken soon enough."_

 _They aren't dead,_ Oscar realized. _They cannot be. They're immortal._

Oscar's mind went blank, preventing him from forming any type of response, but Ozpin was unaffected by his shock.

" _I thought as much when Qrow told me they had 'passed'."_  The Headmaster said. _"He just confirmed my suspicions."_

His words snapped Oscar out of his stupor. "You  _knew_? Why don't you tell Ruby and the others the truth? They're grieving for nothing!"

RNJR was doing everything they could to welcome Oscar into their group, but there were often times when he felt horribly intrusive. Those times were when he was cruelly reminded that they were a team in mourning, having lost countless friends on their journey to Mistral. Oscar had caught Ruby, Nora, and Jaune close to tears on more than one occasion, had observed the way Ren looked into the distance with sorrowful eyes, had witnessed Jaune turn to speak to someone who was not there, had seen Ruby hug Jaune or Nora for seemingly no reason, clinging to them like they were stopping her from drowning. And to find out all that misery was for  _nothing_ …?

"If we tell them of Alfred and the others' survival, our enemies could learn of  _Vale's_  survival and hunt him. As a result, they may also learn of the existence of that other world." Qrow explained. He raised a hand, stopping Oscar before he could protest. "And before you say anything, understand this, kid." His red eyes grew sharp. "The best case scenario will result in Ruby and the others  _never_  seeing Alfred and his friends again. They got what they wanted. They returned to their world. And if Salem never learns Earth exists, she'll  _never_  find them. The Relic of Choice inside Beacon will remain out of her reach for eternity."

" _As much as it pains me, the grief of four teenagers is a price we must pay to protect another world."_  Ozpin added quietly.  _"Telling them of Earth and its nations would help mend their hearts, but it would also spawn the risk of Earth becoming Salem's target. If they discover Pyrrha lives, RNJR will not be content to continue their lives as they have. They will try to locate her and retrieve her themselves, and the nature of their mission would inevitably reach Salem's forces. We have already harmed Earth and its people enough. The least we can do is_   _take measures to keep Salem unaware of their existence."_

"But…"

Oscar could not think of a good retort. The only ones he could form were based in emotional responses, and he was slowly beginning to understand that would not help him save the day here. The thought of Alfred, Matthew, and the others coming from a different planet was so out of left field that he wouldn't believe it if not for Ozpin's memories.

Salem wouldn't consider the possibility that another world was the location of the personification of Vale. She would not consider that in a million years unless someone suggested it to her. Ruby, Jaune, Nora, and Ren would never tell the Grimm Queen anything intentionally, but they would want their friend back and would take steps to try to find her. And the more people who knew the truth and acted upon it, the more likely it was it would reach undesirable ears.

In Oscar's head, Ozpin sighed.  _"I know this is a difficult matter, one I wish you need not be involved in. However, I'd rather you learn of it now than be blindsided by it later."_

"They can't know, kid. It'll only distract them and leave loose ends Salem could exploit." Qrow said, unaware of Ozpin's words. "But Oz— and thus, you— need to be aware of the full situation."

 _I don't_ _ **want**_ _to be aware!_  A part of Oscar wanted to scream.

He was beginning to comprehend his expected role in this war, and he wasn't sure that he liked it. It wasn't like he wanted to go around telling the world all the secrets they were unaware of, but he'd believed at least RNJR would be privy to this information. Apparently that was not the case.

Oscar could see the road ahead of him, and it looked very lonely indeed.

"I understand." He whispered. "I won't tell them."

XXXXXXX

Weiss gazed out the window of the airship, watching the world fly by. The cargo ship she had bribed herself onto soared over a serene blue lake, and although she appreciated the view, she could not help the melancholy that gripped her heart.

After months trapped in Atlas and her family's isolated home, she was finally free. But there was a price. She was no longer the Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. That title had been given to her younger brother, Whitley, after Weiss showed 'instability and trauma due to what she saw at Beacon' during a party hosted by her father, Jacques Schnee. Weiss couldn't decide whether her brother had known her father would strip her of her inheritance or if he had simply taken advantage of her fall from grace. Either way, the betrayal of a family member she had cautiously began to trust hurt deeply.

Weiss would not let the loss of her inheritance— and her chance to redeem the Schnee family name— crush her. She never let her father crush her dreams, not now, not before, not even after Beacon's fall. Weiss didn't stop training after Jacques brought her back to Atlas. How could she after Beacon and after seeing the strength people like Arthur wielded? She couldn't simply sit around like a porcelain doll when others were still out there, fighting. She trained with her Summoning in her room all those months, only staying in that terrible home because of her inheritance.

Ironwood had asked her to join Atlas Academy but she refused. Beacon was her school and RWBY was her team. She would never replace them. And now, once she found Winter in Mistral, she would try to find them. Team RWBY would reunite, along with everyone else that accompanied them. Weiss had to leave Atlas so she did not become trapped in its closed borders, but she would return one day. She would come back and reclaim her inheritance and her dream, so that the Schnee family name and their Dust Company could become a beacon of truth, innovation, and honor once more.

Weiss noticed large landmasses floating outside the window, huge crystals jutting from the elevated dirt. They were unexpected and beautiful, taking her breath away, and her curiosity peaked. She exited the cargo area of the airship and to the cockpit.

"Hey, kid." The pilot greeted her briefly.

"Hello. What are those? Where are we?" she asked.

"Those are the floating islands of Lake Matsu." The pilot explained. "Gravity Dust keeps them afloat but they're filled with some nasty Grimm."

Weiss looked out the window again, eying the islands warily. They no longer seemed beautiful, instead more haunting and ominous as they surrounded the airship. Movement caught her eye and she saw a smoking airship streaking towards them.

" _Watch out!_ "

The pilot yanked on the steering wheel, barely evading the airship. It crashed into one of the islands, exploding into fire and smoke. Weiss yanked her eyes away from the sight as the pilot turned on his radio, a distress call coming through with a crackle.

" _By the gods, we lost Percy!"_  a female voice screamed.  _"Help!"_

A Mistralian Airship appeared, chased by enormous wasp-like Grimm. They hovered around the ship, shooting their grapple-like stingers at the vessel, and hooked it, leaving them trapped.

" _We're hooked!"_  the woman cried.

Before Weiss' horrified eyes, the airship began to crack as the Grimm literally tore it apart. She clapped a hand over her mouth, heart stuttering as she realized what was about to happen.

" _Abandon ship!"_  the woman shouted but it was too late.

One of the Grimm twisted in the air and dived at the airship, dive-bombing into the top of it. The airship exploded, killing everyone on board. With their first prey dead, the wasp-like Grimm turned their red eyes to the cargo ship.

The pilot cursed, gripping the controls tightly. "Lancers! Damn it! Buckle up—"

He turned, but Weiss was already gone, down the hatch and into the cargo hold.

His voice came over the intercom.  _"What are you doing?"_

"You're carrying Dust, right?" she asked.

" _Officially, no. Truthfully, yes."_ The pilot said.

Weiss opened a crate and filled her weapon with Dust. "When I say so, open the door."

She heard him growl. "Fine. You'd better know what you're doing."

The ship tilted as the pilot frantically avoided the pursuing Lancers. As she heard the thuds of a few near-misses, Weiss stumbled but used a glyph to steady herself and keep her feet in place. She readied her sword, exhaling.

"Ready!"

The cargo door opened. Weiss used a glyph and white Dust to shove the Lancers back with wind, giving the airship more room. She followed it up with fireballs, striking one of the Lancers down, but the others continued their pursuit. A sharp turn nearly made her lose her balance but she kept her footing, summoning five glyphs and launching ice at her foes. A thud alerted her just before two stingers punctured the top of the airship.

_We're hooked!_

Weiss forced away her panic and sliced through the rope-like part of the stingers, setting them free. The cargo ship rumbled as it shot downward, sides scraping along the close island walls before they flew into more open air. A few of the Lancers hit the islands and died on impact, leaving many more still after the ship.

Weiss noticed an overhanging rock formation and shot fireballs at it, making it fall onto the Grimm. Her relief was short-lived as the dust cleared, revealing a gigantic Lancer that was nearly as big as the airship. The Queen Lancer's buzzing made the vessel itself shake, and it shot sharp barbs at Weiss, who hastily blocked them with her glyphs. The barbs stabbed into the crates and floor around her and she threw fireballs at the Queen, hitting it dead on. The Queen emerged from the explosion unaffected.

Weiss grimaced and mentally apologized to the pilot before shooting most of the crates of Dust out the back, firing a fireball at them. They too exploded, completely covering the Queen from view. The Queen wasn't the slightest bit singed. The pilot noticed.

" _Oh Gods, we're not going to make it!"_

Weiss palms grew sweaty but she composed herself. Panicking would not help them now.

 _I won't give up. Not now, not ever._ "When I say so, pull up!" she told the pilot.

Receiving an affirmative from him, she knelt, focusing as her glyph spun before her. A giant hand emerged from it, followed by a body and sword, and once she was ready, she shouted to the pilot.

"Now!"

The airship tilted, sending the remaining crates flying at the Queen Lancer, along with her Arma Gigas. The giant knight-like summon free fell towards the Queen, sword held at its side and gaze locked on the enemy. As the airship straightened, Weiss focused solely on her summon, waiting as it and the Queen grew closer and closer. At the last minute, it disintegrated, reforming behind the Queen and slicing it with its sword. Again and again the Arma Gigas vanished, launching off of Weiss's glyphs and slashing its foe.

One final blow hit the Queen in its midsection, slicing clean through, and in one final, desperate attack, it launched its stinger at the Arma Gigas. Weiss' Knight deflected the stinger down, away from the airship, and it hit only empty air. It's job done, the Arma Gigas vanished into white light, and the airship passed into clear air.

The pilot whooped.  _"We made it, kid!"_

Exhausted, Weiss leaned against the side of the airship and laughed. "Yeah, we did." She limped back to the cockpit and slumped in an empty seat. "I apologize for losing your cargo."

"It's fine." The pilot said. "It's a fair trade for, you know, being  _alive_." He smiled, clearly giddy from relief and adrenaline. "You know what, kid? I owe you one."

He handed her a slip of paper. Weiss looked at the numbers scrawled on the page, recognizing them as a Scroll number.

The pilot chuckled and confirmed her assessment. "If you ever need a lift after this, call me. I'll help if I can."

Weiss smiled back. "Thank you."

The danger having passed, they continued their flight to Mistral.


	10. Visitation Rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another triple update. We're almost caught up.

Canada stared at his computer, pale face illuminated by the glow of the screen. Slowly, he refreshed the page and meticulously typed each letter, pressing enter. The page loaded and red lettering appeared, proclaiming his account could not be found.

Canada stared at his computer, unblinking. Then he planted his forehead on the desk, causing it to type a mix of 'f's, 'd's, 'g's, and 'h's. The line of gibberish grew longer and longer by the second, but Canada did not care, lifting his head to whack it back down on the keyboard. Again. Again. Again.

America left his spot in the doorway and grabbed the poor keyboard, sliding it to the side and catching his brother's head with his palm. He leaned over and to see miserable violet eye staring at him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"My email is gone. It was deactivated for too long." Canada said wretchedly. He sat up and pulled the keyboard from America's hands, typing away. "Now I have to create a new one, give it to my boss and the other officials, try to recall my contacts, and somehow retrieve all the information I lost. But  _wait_! I can't  _get_  that information because it's  _gone_."

His hands slammed down onto the keyboard, causing an error message to appear on the screen. Canada's eye twitched. America yanked the abused keyboard away and sat in the spare chair beside his brother. It was the day after their… discussion, and he could see Mattie was still upset. His insides twisted and although he tried to tell himself it was not his fault, he could not help but feel guilty for being unable to fully put his twin's mind at ease.

Between Canada's Semblance and America's stupid reminder of what Atlas had done to them, Matthew was more than a little stressed, forsaking socializing with Australia and Pyrrha in favor of huddling in a dark room and trying to murder his computer. Trying to fix Canada's big problems was impossible, so America resolved to assist him in this smaller matter.

"Maybe you just typed in your password wrong." America said optimistically.

"I've tried over twenty times." Canada said, dangerously close to tears. "It won't even recognize my user name."

"Well maybe you typed that in wrong too." America said stubbornly.

America erased all the random letters Canada had typed and reloaded the email login screen. It asked for the offending username, and after carefully inputting Canada's login, America let the pointer hover over the submit button, glaring.

_Work, damn you. I won't let a stupid login like you make my brother cry._

He clicked and the password bar appeared. Canada perked up hopefully and America breathed a sigh of relief.

"Password?" he prompted.

Canada gave it and America typed it in, clicking login. The page loaded and displayed the email, lines upon lines of unread messages appearing. Despite the ungodly number of emails he had to slog through, Matthew laughed and hugged his brother, squeezing him so tightly Alfred swore his ribs creaked.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome." America said with a grin.

Canada released him and began skimming the emails, clicking through a few junk ones and deleting them. "I can't believe you got it to work. These tend to deactivate if you don't login for a few months."

"That's really stupid." America sniffed. He leaned over Mattie's shoulder, frowning. "Wow, you have a lot."

"We were gone almost a year." Canada reminded him. "Yours is probably just as full."

"Should I look at it?" America asked hesitantly. "I mean, the important stuff won't make sense to me and most of it is from months ago anyway…"

"Do you remember your password?" Canada asked, scowling as he spotted another spam message.

"No." America muttered.

"Then leave it for now." Canada encouraged. "Your boss will contact you by phone if he needs you."

"So you're good now?" America asked.

"Yes, I'm good." Canada confirmed. "Sorry for freaking out about this."

"It's okay. There are worst things to flip out over."

Canada scrolled through his messages, expression growing pinched. "This is going to take me a while. Did you need something?"

"Nah, just checking up on you." America said.

"You're not avoiding Australia, are you?" Canada asked dryly.

America pursed his lips. "Nooooo…"

Canada sighed. "He's your guest. You can't just ditch him."

"Can too." America declared. "And I'm not ditching him. I'm just… not comfortable around him."

Matthew stopped typing and looked at him, a frown pulling at his lips. "Did something happen?" he asked urgently, eyes flashing a dangerously violent violet.

America shook his head frantically. "No-no. I… I don't remember him. That's all."

"So he's a stranger in your house." His twin surmised.

Canada's eyes softened and Alfred looked away, cheeks flushed with shame. He'd barely been home a few days, but the mansion felt  _right_. It felt like he belonged here. However, visitors were already appearing, and more would soon follow; and all America could think about was how they would soon outnumber the people he knew he could trust.

Mattie, Tony, Pyrrha, and Kiku were friendly and would never hurt him, but what about the rest of them? England, France, Russia, and China were on their way according to Canada. Australia was already here, and Italy, Romano, Germany, and Prussia would arrive after the latter two brothers recovered enough.

America's last clear memory of England was when he pointed a gun at him. Russia had been eager to fight him when he arrived back on Earth. He did not remember China at all, and only had brief interactions with France and Australia that were more information dumps than conversations. And yet these people were going to be staying in his  _home_?

A part of America wanted to demand they stay away, but doing so would only show them he was scared. His house wouldn't be secure anymore. America already liked living with just Mattie, Pyrrha, Tony, and his pets. He didn't want people to come ruin that sense of peace. But they were, and he could do nothing to stop it.

"How soon are the others arriving?" he asked instead of replying to his brother's statement.

"They're supposed to land in a few minutes and arrive here a few hours after that." Canada said gently.

"Won't it be too late for them to drive?" America asked hopefully.

"No." Canada denied. "Al, you cannot hide from them forever."

"I'm not hiding." America scoffed.

"Then go talk to Australia." Canada insisted. "He's nice, I swear. And if he did try anything, you know Pyrrha would kick his ass."

That startled a laugh out of Alfred. "Yeah, you're right." He stood up, fiddling with his glasses and prodding at his eyepatch. A glare from Canada stopped him and he sighed. "Fine, I'll go make friends, I guess."

"Good. Now, I have to work and call my boss. Shoo." Canada ordered.

"I'm shooing." America snickered.

He left the room, shutting the door behind him, and his smile faded. He headed downstairs and to the back door, peering out where he could see Australia talking to his whale. It was still strange to America that Whale could understand them, but seeing as how he had a unicorn living in his house he supposed it was not that weird. Said unicorn came up to America and nuzzled him, unseen by Australia. America patted Uni's head and dithered in the doorway, uncertain how to proceed with his appointed 'assignment'.

" _Go make friends," Canada says. "It'll be fun," he says. "It won't be awkward at all," he says._

Australia noticed him in the doorway and smiled, giving a short wave. "G'day, America. You going to keep standing there or what? It's not like you to stand there like a shy schoolgirl."

America scowled. "I've been doing a lot of things that aren't 'like me' lately."

Australia winced. "That was rude of me. Sorry, mate."

His apologetic tone chipped away at America's ire and he managed an awkward smile. He took a few cautious steps closer, checking that his Aura was activated just in case. "Um. So you're the representative of that continent-country— Australia— right?"

"That's right." Australia said cheerfully, eyes glazing dreamily. "It's a lovely place with diverse wildlife. We got kangaroos, koalas, wombats, emus, dingoes, some of the most venomous spiders and snakes in the world—"

America choked on his own spit. " _What?_  I mean, sounds wonderful."

Australia cracked up at his expression, laughing openly. "I'm jesting, mate. Mostly. While most of my wildlife is indeed beautiful, I know some of it's a bit dangerous. Did you know I used to bring some of them to show off to England? Scared his socks off more than once."

That brought a genuine smile to America's face. "Please tell me you put something in his bed."

"You bet I did." Australia said. "I had a python named Jackie. She was the sweetest, most adorable thing you'll ever meet but she gave England a right old scare."

"Is 'Jackie' with you?" America asked nervously.

To his relief, Australia shook his head. "Nah. I left my babies all at home. It's hellish trying to get them through customs, and they prefer the outback to here."

"Oh, good." America said.

Australia shook his head, clearly amused. "You afraid of snakes?"

"No. I'm just a little leery around some animals because of the Grimm." America admitted.

Australia grimaced. "France told me Remnant made my place look like a tame haven filled with adorable, harmless critters. Was it really that wild?"

"Outside of the cities, you're always at risk of being attacked and killed." America murmured. A bolt of pain ripped through his chest and he hissed, rubbing the spot. "Damn it…" His vision swam, and when it focused Australia was there, green eyes dark. "I'm fine." America grunted before he could ask. "Vale has a Grimm problem. It hurts sometimes."

Australia winced. "Ouch. I can't imagine having monsters constantly tearing apart my capital."

"Yeah, it sucks." America said briskly, determined not to dwell on it. "Uh, do you like video games?"

Australia shrugged. "I'm not a gaming nut like you but I can get by." He bared his teeth in a wild grin. "Why? Is that a challenge?"

America grinned back. "Why yes, it is."

They headed into the gaming room, with Uni trailing behind them. America was used to it by now. The unicorn tended to randomly linger near him before wandering off, as if she needed to reassure herself America was there. He did not blame her. In the gaming room, Pyrrha was reading a comic book on the couch. America recognized it as one of the X-Men books he'd been reading.

"Enjoying that?" he asked as he set up the game.

He watched Uni plop down in the corner where Australia and Pyrrha hopefully would not trip over her.

Pyrrha lowered the comic and smiled. "Yes. The storyline is certainly interesting." Her green eyes flicked over the page and she frowned. "I think I'm beginning to understand why France was so insistent we keep our Auras and Semblances to ourselves. A story where people are used and persecuted because of their powers would be almost unbelievable on Remnant. I know we have the Faunus but…" She sighed. "This is rather eye-opening."

America considered her words and frowned. "I noticed that too."  _Is that why Mattie suggested that series to me?_  He shook himself. "Do you want to play a game with us? It's called…" He read the case again. "Mario Kart. It's a racing game."

"No thank you." She declined politely. "I'd like to continue reading."

"Okay." America plopped down onto the couch next to Australia and grabbed a controller. "Prepare to be defeated, Jett!"

Green eyes gazed at him, perplexed, but then the Australian laughed. "Only in your dreams."

Uni moved to sit by America's legs pressing against them, and the Prix began. Four hours later, America was the proud and preening Mario Kart champion. Australia accepted his loss with grace, though he did have a few complaints.

"How could you use the  _Blue Shell_  on me?" he demanded, aghast. "That's a friendship breaker right there!"

America laughed in the face of his 'outrage'. "It's not my fault I kept getting it. And I only used it that one time because I didn't know what it did. I won through my own skills, thank you very much."

"You were in second or first the entire time. You shouldn't have been able to get it." Australia huffed. "I call hacks."

"Dude, I'm sitting right next to you." America sniggered. "How would I hack the game? Magic?" He wiggled his fingers, laughing at the thought.

_Maybe I magically reactivated Canada's email earlier too—_

America froze, staring at his controller as his knuckles turned white. He gently set it down before he could break it. Uni raised her head, nudging his hand in concern. America patted her nose absently, hand trembling.

Australia noticed something in his expression. "You okay?"

Pyrrha looked up from her comic, scanning the area for anything out of place before focusing on Alfred.

America tried to smile. "Um. If it turned out I accidentally was hacking the game, would you be mad?"

Australia looked at him like he was crazy. He probably was. But a bunch of little instances were slowly coming together for him, and America wasn't sure if he was insane or wanted to scream. Whether that scream would be joyful or horrified had yet to be seen.

"No?" Australia said questioningly.

America nodded. "Good enough."

He got up and unplugged the console. Australia leapt up with a cry, watching with dismay as the game failed to save. He rounded on America, flailing in a furious way that would make any gamer proud.

"What are you  _doing_? We just unlocked a new level!"

"Give me a sec." America said levelly.

He unplugged the television as well, then the console from the TV for good measure. Once every possible wire was undone, he laid his hand on the console.

_I'm about to look like an idiot._

Except Canada's email should have been gone, all of its information with it.

_This is dumb._

Except Japan's number had already been in his phone when Canada swore he did not enter it.

_I'm being stupid._

Except he had made the Scroll work after years in the mud.

_Really, this is impossible._

Except his brother had constantly mentioned his technological know-how, including how he fixed a friend's console in minutes, built computers from scratch, and somehow hacked into an Atlesian Knight during the Battle of Beacon. America did not remember all that, but the memories were somewhere inside him, and he couldn't help but  _wonder_ —

The console and television turned on. Before their stunned eyes, it loaded back to the previous screen, saving their updated levels and characters. America looked from the plug lying uselessly on the ground to the electronic and back again, nodding to himself. Then he inhaled.

" _MATTIE!_ "

There was a distant crash. His brother came hurtling down the stairs, Maple Frost deployed in his hands. He skidded to a halt, violet eyes glowing and the air around him icy cold. Upon seeing no threat, he lowered his weapon, his glare growing murderous.

"What the  _hell?_  I thought we were under attack!" he snapped.

America winced, raising his hands in a placating manner. "Sorry, Mattie. I needed you to see this."

Canada followed his finger to the unplugged television and video game console, flicking from the screen to the empty electrical sockets. "Semblance?" he breathed.

"I think so." Alfred said nervously.

His brother laughed and launched himself at him, hugging him tightly. America yelped as Maple Frost's handle smacked into his forehead, but let his brother swing him from side to side. Canada was not as strong as him but  _damn_ he was still strong.

"I can't believe it. Well done!" Mattie said. He stepped back and smacked America on the side of his head. "That's for scaring me."

America smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

He hesitated, then placed his other hand on the television, concentrating. The TV and console shut off. Australia whistled appreciatively and Pyrrha calmly clapped, a small smile on her face. America grinned. He focused again, and it turned back on. On. Off. On. Off. Uni rose to her feet and left the room, likely irritated with the flickering lights. Canada glared at America and the twin laughed and backed away, shrugging when his brother's glower darkened.

"Do you  _want_  your electrical bill to be through the roof?" Canada asked.

"No." America said, giving an exaggerated sigh.

He turned on the electronics one more time to be sure, beaming when it responded to his desires. So his Semblance had something to do with technology. That was  _awesome_. He wished he could have discovered it in a cooler situation, but was glad he figured it out at all. People went decades without discovering their Semblances, and some never found them.

America thought of Canada's Semblance and hid a wince, his joy tempered by guilt. He really should be one hundred percent grateful. He didn't know what his Semblance did, exactly, but it was already easier to control and less devastating than Mattie's. America studied his twin, searching for any signs of dismay or jealousy in his expression, but Canada just smiled, seemingly happy that Alfred had found his Semblance. America bet he was genuinely excited too. The thought made him want to cry. Why did fate have to be so cruel to give Canada a Semblance that he feared and hated so much?

"So that's a thing." Australia said, pulling America out of his thoughts. "That's a  _very_  useful thing."

"What do you mean?" America asked, put off by his solemn tone.

Australia frowned, scratching the side of his head. "Well, our world has a  _lot_  of technology. If you can manipulate it, you've got a huge advantage."

Panic wrapped around America's chest like a boa constrictor, squeezing the air from his lungs and blocking his throat. He was such an  _idiot_. Why did he test his theory in front of another nation? Oh Gods, Australia would know about what he could do and he'd probably tell his boss and then who knew what would happen because if technology was such a big thing here then they probably wouldn't trust America knowing he could hack into their files or make things work that shouldn't or make things that should not work and what if they decided that was worth disregarding the 'no experimenting on nations' law and dragged him back to a lab and—

"Oi! Alfred!  _Al_."

America clawed his way out of his panic at the sound of his name, meeting worried green eyes. Not Pyrrha's. Pyrrha was standing back, watching, hand slightly raised like she was prepared to grab something.

"I  _won't_  tell anyone." Australia said, voice low. "Not my boss, not the other nations, not anybody. I already know about Vale and all that. What's one more secret?"

"You mean it?" America asked, hating how nervous he sounded.

It wasn't like they could stop Australia if he didn't, though America could tell Pyrrha would do her best to try. Luckily, Jett nodded, and America could see no deception in his face.

"I mean it. Not a word, not even to England and the others if you don't want them to know."

"I don't." America decided. "Not yet."

Canada moved, and it was only then that America noticed his brother had been holding onto Australia's arm. Why? To stop him if he tried anything? Alfred shot his twin a grateful look, and Canada nodded, looking slightly ill. He must still be winding down from his rush to get to them. America felt a twinge of guilt for scaring his brother but he'd make it up to him later.

"Wait a bloody minute!" Australia bellowed, making the twins jump. "You  _did_  hack the game!"

His outraged expression made America burst out laughing. "You can't prove it." He managed to say between his giggles.

Australia scowled and advanced threateningly. "Why you—"

_Ding-dong._

The doorbell rang, and all of America's emotions trickled away, leaving only numb fear. He felt his face drain of color and looked to Canada, visible eye wide and frightened, and Matthew's expression twisted with a mix of sympathy and dread.

"Al—"

"I'm fine." He lied. "Let's go greet our guests, shall we?"

America strode to the front door, unflinching as the person outside rang it again. Impatient, were they? After a cursory glance at the security feed, he placed his hand on the door handle, taking a shuddering breath. With the door closed, his vulnerabilities showed as clear as day.

When it opened, only a professional mask remained.

XXXXXXX

"Hello, England, everyone. Welcome to my home."

America had never greeted England so professionally, not since the coldest days during and after the Revolution. It was disturbing to see his normally exuberant brother stare at him so expressionlessly, his gaze only more unsettling due to the iciness of his blue eye and the eyepatch covering his cursed one. The Brit shoved his hurt behind a scowl, huffing irritably.

"Well, are you going to let us in or leave us on the stoop?"

America ignored him, nodding politely to the others and beckoning them inside. "Come in, all of you."

England, France, China, Japan, and Russia did as he asked, giving the inside of the entrance hall a cursory glance as they entered. The place was big and showy, just like its owner. Or, how its owner used to be and might never be ag—

France spotted Canada hovering near a doorway and pranced over to him, sweeping him into a hug. "Matthieu! Oh, I missed you."

Canada chuckled and hugged France back. "You just saw me."

"Yes, but I still missed you with all my heart." France proclaimed. He turned back to America, smiling. "How are you settling in, Amérique? Has Canada been causing trouble?"

Canada spluttered indignantly, but if France was trying to soothe America, it worked. The wary nation chuckled. "Oh yeah. Mattie's been a menace. He was bugging poor Pyrrha and I all the way here."

He and France exchanged smiles— the younger nation's noticeably timid— and England didn't bother to pretend his heart wasn't burning with jealousy. America was  _his_  brother, dammit. He shouldn't trust the frog more than him.

"Liar!" Canada denied.

France tutted disapprovingly. "Now, now, Matthieu. I taught you better manners than that." His blue eyes twinkled.

America sniggered, catching England's eye. The smile vanished and the professional mask slammed back into place. England directed a scowl at the floor.

Canada noticed and winced visibly before motioning for them to follow him. "Let's get your stuff to your rooms." They headed upstairs. "Sorry we didn't greet you immediately. We thought you wouldn't arrive for a few hours."

"I said we should have called you to tell you we were early." Russia said smugly.

"That would have been appreciated." America said graciously, the polite tone lingering like the unwanted remnants of winter. His blue eye swept over Russia's tall form and narrowed. "You are Russia, correct?"

"You still do not remember me?" Russia asked. England could not tell if he sounded hurt or delighted.

"I'm afraid not." America said neutrally, no inflection in his voice.

 _He should be shrugging lazily and saying an insincere "Sorry."_  England thought.  _Why is he acting so— so wron— formal?_

England knew why, and struggled not to glower at America's eyepatch. His brother noticed his anger anyway and tensed, stepping closer to Japan. A shudder passed through him and his head snapped to the left, briefly granting England a glimpse of a glazed blue eye.

"How about I show Kiku to his room? I remember where it is." There was a tinge of excitement to his voice, but it still remained formal and restrained.

"Thank you, Alfred-kun." Japan said graciously. "Lead the way."

America grabbed his hand and pulled him along. It was telling the black-haired nation did not object to the contact. As they disappeared around the corner, England saw America's formal mask slip away to reveal a natural, sunny grin. A part of England wept quietly, but his sorrow was barely felt over the angry growling of the monster in his chest.

China huffed, the loud noise making more than one nation jump. "I did not want to believe it, aru." he said. "But America truly has changed."

"Has he?" Russia questioned. "Or is this his true self without his mask of foolishness? America has always been intelligent and capable. Maybe he has grown sick of pretending."

England glared daggers at him, opening his mouth.

"I don't think so." France interjected. "I think he merely does not trust us, so he is hiding his true self behind a mask of professional detachment."

Australia made a low grunting sound that could be disagreement or exasperation. When the others looked to him, he merely shook his head silently.

"Well, it's disturbing, aru." China said.

"Do you find him intimidating?" Russia questioned.

"No. Merely disconcerting." China clarified. "He is not himself, aru."

"I agree." England growled. "That fiendish _imposter_  is not America."

The nations gaped at him with varying degrees of shock. France and China were openly stunned. Russia was eerily emotionless. Australia bit his lip in a way that England recognized from when he was trying not to say something, his green eyes flicking past the group.

"Do not let him hear you say that, Angleterre." France cautioned.

England was about to retort when an icy chill went up his spine. It was only when the chill covered all his exposed flesh that he realized it was not an emotion-based sensation from his body. He looked at the silently fuming Canada, whose scowl would not look out of place on a furious bear.

"Oh, you finally remembered when I was here while you were talking about  _my twin_." He said icily.

"Angleterre did not mean it, Matthieu." France said quickly.

The anger slipped away, leaving a disappointed grimace behind. "Yes, he did." Canada said softly.

His gaze flicked past England and resignation flashed across his features. England whipped around, fully expecting America to be standing there. The actual eavesdropper might be worse.

Pyrrha glared at him stonily, green eyes narrowed to slits and mouth set in a tense line like she was trying not to snarl. She vanished into a room without a word, but England knew better than to think she had left completely. How long had she been with the group? The whole time? Or had she followed from a distance, feeling out of place in their reunion and only exposing herself when England insulted her friend and insinuated he was a  _fraud_  in the Brit's eyes.

_Oh dear._

"I'll talk to her." Canada said. "You can find your own rooms." His tone held such disappointment that England wished the ground would open up to swallow him whole.

With that, Canada left them in the hall.

Russia chuckled. "Well done, England. You are always so skilled at making enemies everywhere you go."

"You really messed up, mate." Australia added. His green eyes glinted with pity— or was it something else?

England flinched and gritted his teeth, keeping a stiff upper lip. "I am aware of that. I will make amends."

"Please do." France begged. "I tire of seeing you and Amérique so uncomfortable around each other again."

"How long did it take you to reconcile last time?" Russia asked curiously.

"Many years." England grunted.

"You'd better do it quicker this time." China advised. "Or the chasm between you will only grow to a point where it can never be crossed."

"I  _know_." England snapped. The outburst stole the anger from his veins and he slumped. "I know." France put a hand on his arm but he shook him off, adjusting his hold on his bag. "I'll be in my room."

He stalked away to his usual guest room, which looked the same as it always did. It even had a few of his belongings strewn about it, marking the room as his. Setting his bag on the bed, England rummaged through its contents. He mustn't waste time. He had things to do. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a book, flipping through its pages until he found what he was searching for.

On cue, Tony entered the room without knocking. "Limey bastard."

England rolled his eyes at the rude greeting. "Alien git."

Tony's red eyes rested on the book. "Is that your magic book?"

"Yes, it is." England confirmed.

Tony nodded sharply. "Good. We need it. Progress stagnated after you left. I didn't want to risk moving forward and blocking you out by mistake."

"That fear is no longer a problem." England said. "I can assist you now. We  _will_  prevent anyone from returning from that wretched planet."

"Good." Tony stated. "I won't let them hurt America again."

"Neither will I." England vowed.

America could hate him, shun him, and never want to see him again, but England would never stop protecting his little brother. Not even a direct order from his boss would stop him. And even though things were rough between them, that was  _Vale's_  fault. It was  _Vale's_  fault that America no longer trusted England or had his memory.

His brother needed that  _parasite_  gone. England flipped to a new page, studying it intently. A triumphant smirk stretched across his face. And he might just have a way to do it.

XXXXXXX

Jaune exited the library, lost in thought. He'd spent hours among the books and tomes yet had found little more about anything. He'd hoped to uncover more new information about the Silver Eyes for Ruby, but had only located a few meager references to the Silver-Eyed Warriors, one of which had him concerned. That particular text claimed the Silver Eyes' ability— or a power suspiciously implied to be Silver Eyes— was dangerous for the user. His hand brushed the paper that lay in his pocket, upon which he had written down the exact passage that made him uneasy.

" _Be it the limited amount of Aura someone possesses, or the physical, Aura-based, or mental toll one's Semblance has upon them, no power is without a price. The Warrior's Gift is no exception. Destroying the Grimm with a glance is a powerful ability, so what is the cost? What is the limitation that keeps the Warriors from using this power to decimate all the Grimm that plague this world? I do not have the answers, and the Warrior I met refused to tell me._

_That Warrior was dead a year later."_

The entry said nothing about how the Warrior passed and whether the 'cost' was a physical toll or something else was never revealed. It made Jaune worry. That was why he continued his research after Ozpin told them "everything" about Silver Eyes, quotes firmly included. He couldn't believe a soul as old as Ozpin did not know more about the Silver Eyes, and he feared for his friend. If it turned out using Silver Eyes hurt Ruby he'd—

Well, he'd—

…He wasn't sure what he would do, exactly, other than punch Qrow and Ozpin in the faces as a starting point. Jaune admitted that was not a very productive plan, but the thought that Ozpin might be keeping something huge from his students haunted the knight. At least Ruby seemed to understand RNJR shouldn't keep secrets from each other. That was why Jaune was going to tell Ruby about his findings as soon as he returned.

First he had to finish his task. Ozpin may be withholding some truths but he was right about one thing. Jaune needed to upgrade his gear. He supposed he should have sought out a blacksmith before going to the library so he could pick up his stuff when he left, but it was too late to do that now. He'd have to leave his armor for however long it took the smithy to forge his upgraded set.

Jaune wandered through the commercial district of Mistral, careful not to bump into anyone on the busy streets and keeping an eye out for a smithy and pickpockets. Luck was on his side, for among the signs was an anvil sporting the name 'Victory Blacksmithing'. Jaune headed towards it and opened the door. A bell rang somewhere and he heard footsteps behind the counter.

"Just give me a moment!" a deep male voice called.

A large brown-haired man backed out of the room, carrying a box of metal. He set it on the counter with a grunt and wiped at his forehead. Jaune caught a glimpse of his face, or more accurately the mask over his face that covered even his eyes. The knight guessed it was to protect him from flying sparks.

"There we go. Welcome to Victory—" He turned to Jaune and froze. "Jaune Arc?"

Jaune jumped, falling back a step. "You know me?" he asked cautiously.

"Of course I know you, lad!" the man said, delighted. "You did wonderfully in the Tournament." He lifted the mask, revealing a beaming smile and familiar  _green_  eyes. "So, when is my daughter going to arrive? Did she send you in here alone to meet me? Or is she giving me time to 'talk' to you?" He chuckled. "That's my little firecracker."

Jaune couldn't speak. He couldn't move. A bucket of ice-water fell over his head, chilling him to the bone and leaving him numb. The blacksmith— Pyrrha's  _father_ — saw his expression and his smile faded.

"Are you alright, lad? I was just joking about the talk. I'm not that intimidating, am I?"

"I'm sorry." Jaune choked. "I— I didn't know you were—"

He lost his voice once more, the words catching in his throat and strangling him. Pyrrha's father stared at him, his cheer smothered by rising fear as his tan hands began to shake. Jaune dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look at him. It was obvious the man didn't know. One would think Ozpin or Qrow would have taken steps to inform him but apparently not. It was up to Jaune.

He reached into his bag, feeling Pyrrha's father's green eyes on him, and took out the two items he had carried for weeks. He laid them carefully on the countertop and heard Pyrrha's father gasp, no doubt recognizing the circlet and shield. His calloused hands picked them up and he cradled them like they were the most precious, fragile things in the world. The man took a shaky breath.

"Mister Arc? Where's my daughter?"

"I'm sorry." Jaune whispered. "She— S-She's—"

He couldn't say it. Pyrrha's father understood. His large, strong frame crumpled and the circlet and shield clattered onto the countertop. He braced himself on the wood, head bowed as a keening wail escaped him, and his teardrops dripped onto the singed metal. It took all Jaune's strength not to join him in his grief because he had no right to cry. Not when it was his fault Pyrrha was  _dead_.

Pyrrha's father eventually pulled himself together, looking at Jaune with red-rimmed eyes that were the exact same shade as Pyrrha's. "How?"

Jaune told him. About the nations, those that hunted them, and Pyrrha's fall to such forces. Ozpin and Qrow would have his head for his indiscretion but this was  _Pyrrha's father_. He deserved the truth. The man did not gasp in horror at the revelations. He did not demand the public be told. He did not swear vengeance on Salem or Ozpin or anyone involved. He merely stood in silence, accepting Jaune's tale and staring into the distance with dull green eyes. Once Jaune finished, the silent man lowered his head.

"Thank you for telling me." He whispered. He swallowed roughly. "Pyrrha's mother is out on a mission at the moment. She's a Huntress, you see. Like our daughter wants— wanted to be. I… I have to tell her when she returns."

"I'm sorry." Jaune whispered again, unable to say anything else.

Pyrrha's father wiped at his eyes. "Don't go blaming yourself, lad. It's not your fault." He picked up Pyrrha's circlet and shield again, staring at them blankly, and his fingers tightened. "My daughter always talked about the kind, brave boy who was her leader. My wife would always tease her, but we were both so happy she had someone like you. Pyrrha was… such a lonely girl, before Beacon. You… You brought her great joy. She loved you."

Jaune blinked back tears, unable to respond. Pyrrha's dad gently set the circlet and shield back down. His green eyes sharpened like Pyrrha's would when in battle.

"That armor is too small for you, lad." He said. "I'm guessing you came here originally to upgrade it?"

Jaune realized the man must be pushing his grief aside by falling into his work. He couldn't fault him for that. "Yes, sir."

"I will upgrade it." Pyrrha's father stated. His fingers brushed the circlet. "Using this metal."

Jaune balked. "Sir—"

"My daughter is gone." The man choked. "This is all that is left of her. Please, let her be with you in this fight. Let her see it through to the end."

Jaune's gaze locked onto the tarnished circlet and shield and he swallowed hard. He couldn't deny the man his request that Pyrrha be with him in spirit. "Alright."

Pyrrha's father relaxed. "The forging will take a few hours. You may pick up your gear tomorrow."

Jaune took off his armor and lay Crocea Mors next to Pyrrha's weapons. "Thank you."

The blacksmith did not reply, gaze fixed on his daughter's weapons, and it was like the knight was not even there. Jaune wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering forging them himself? Or maybe giving them to Pyrrha? The thought stabbed another dagger into his heart and he left the shop sans his sword and armor. As the door shut behind him, he heard Pyrrha's father break down once more. Jaune dare not go back in and comfort him, so he left the man to his grief.


	11. Not His Sacrifice

"Dude, he  _actually_  lectured you?"

Sitting in a chair in Japan's guest room, America could not stop his immature giggles from bubbling free, his laughter only growing when Japan gave an exasperated sigh.

"Yes. China-san was most displeased with my decision to forgo the meeting in favor of saying goodbye to you. He spent many hours lecturing me on 'acting my age' and 'performing my duties'. He even called me a delinquent as well."

America sniggered. "Really? You sound offended about that."

"I am not." Japan denied. "I am merely tired after my long journey."

"Sure. Do you want me to leave so you can sleep?" America asked.

"I am not that tired." Japan amended quickly. "Though I admit the flight and car ride here were not as relaxing as they could have been. China remembered some additional points he wanted to make and decided to share them with me then."

"How fun." America teased.

"It was not. He brought his wok. But at least he did not bring out his tonfa. It is then that you know you are truly in trouble." Japan shuddered.

America frowned. "Sounds like China knows how to hold a grudge."

He made a mental note of that for future interactions with the older nation. Based on what he'd read— and a few comments from Canada— China didn't already didn't like the blond-haired nation, or at least found his company undesirable. Then again, apparently that was the case with a lot of countries, partially because America was a 'superpower'. Some of the stories Mattie had shared were less than flattering, and Alfred had to applaud his past self for laughing off a majority of the other nations' ire. He was not certain he would react in the same way. He wasn't about to let the others walk all over him or insult his people.

Maybe it would be best to continue avoiding China. Though if the nation disliked him, why was he here? To get information and see if America had any weaknesses to exploit?

"He is merely concerned for my well-being." Japan assured him, perhaps guessing America's thoughts. "My disappearing act scared him."

America grimaced. "I can understand that." He grabbed a pillow off the chair in Japan's guest room, hugging it and setting his chin on top. "It took you longer than I thought to get here. Did your boss not want you to come? "

"No, I merely needed to discuss some things with him first." Japan said. He did not share what those things were.

America fought back the paranoid theories his brain supplied. Japan was nice. He liked the black-haired nation, and the guy truly was his friend, unlike  _some_  people that shall remain unnamed.  _Their discussion is not my business. Chill._

"How are you adjusting to Earth?" Japan asked.

"Pretty good." America said. He hesitated but forced himself to give more information to his friend, who was  _not_  just using him and fishing for information— "My meeting with my boss went well. Other than that I've been hanging with my bro, Pyrrha, and Tony. Oh!" America lit up, beaming. "Dude, I have to tell you what Tony and I've been working on."

Japan inclined his head, urging him to continue.

America did so eagerly. "We're building a  _hologram machine_. Well, Tony started it a while ago but now I'm helping. I know Remnant has that technology already but we're talking  _full illusions_. Like, you could sit at a beach in your house or something."

"That's amazing." Kiku said, and he  _meant_  it.

America could not stop smiling. "Yeah, it's almost done. We need to make a few tweaks." He frowned, tapping his thigh. "You know, maybe I could use my Semblance to make it work…" He shook his head. "Nah. I want it to function on its own."

"Your Semblance?" Japan asked.

America froze. He scrambled for a way to change the subject because yes, he liked Kiku but could he trust him with what his Semblance was? Semblances were personal, and Alfred's could be considered highly dangerous... America's mind was not certain but his heart said yes, telling Japan was okay. He smiled nervously.

"Uh. Yes. I figured out I have a tech-based Semblance right before you showed up. I don't know what it does exactly. I just know I can make stuff work when it's not plugged in and I  _might_  have subconsciously hacked the game Australia and I were playing."

To his relief, Japan looked awestruck, not concerned. Well, his expression did not change but his eyes were shining with interest. "That is wonderful, Alfred-kun."

America relaxed and slouched in his chair. "What about you? What's your Semblance?"

Japan's lips pursed.

"You don't have to tell me." America backtracked rapidly.

"No, it is fine." Japan reassured him. "I do not have a Semblance."

"Oh." America breathed, relieved he had not accidentally offended his friend. "Any ideas what it might be?"

"No. It does not matter." Japan said. "I do not have an active Aura."

" _What?_ " America spluttered. "But you were on Remnant and fighting Grimm!"

"I was." Japan said calmly, unaffected by his outburst. "Prussia, France, Canada and England are the only ones who had their Auras unlocked."

America scowled. "That's not fair. Do you want me to unlock it now?"

The words left his mouth before he could consider them. Alfred bit his lip, but decided it was too late to try to take the offer back. He remembered how to unlock Aura; the procedure was right there with his knowledge of Grimm, but France said he shouldn't…

"You would do that for me?" Japan asked, and America could tell he was trying to hide his surprise.

Pain lanced through America's head.

_He sat across from Japan, a turntable game settled between them. His chest swelled with pride at the other nation's awed expression, Japan's child-like wonder at the turntable's answers bringing a smile to his face._

" _Now, what do you want to ask next?" he asked eagerly. "You can ask anything, like things you're worried about or pretty girls." His grin grew cheeky as Japan blushed slightly, twitching._

" _What things worry me?" Japan stammered. He looked down, uncertainty flashing over his features. Sensing the shift in mood, America's own smile faded._

" _Ever since you came here, my world has changed quite a bit." Japan admitted quietly. "It's wonderful to get to know people, but I'm worried whether I can get along with them."_

_America blinked, completely unprepared for the vulnerability Japan showed him._

" _So please, can you tell me if I'll get along with everyone from now on?" the other nation requested._

_His gaze was downcast, his eyes dark and sad, and America's heart went out to him. Had he been betrayed in the past? Had he lost someone? Had his bonds with another person been irreparably damaged? America had to fix this. He had to reassure Japan. He forced a small smile and nodded sharply. "Sure. Let's try it."_

_He and Japan put their hands on the turntable and it moved once._

_America beamed. "Did you see that? Once! It said yes!"_

_When he saw the relief on Japan's face, he laughed, and silently vowed to make that answer true._

America nodded sharply. "Of course, Kiku. We're friends, and honestly you should've had it unlocked back on Remnant. I know we can heal but your trip through  _Grimm-infested lands_  totally would've been easier with it." He raised his hand, letting it hover over Japan's chest. "So what do you think? We don't have to right now if you want time to think about it."

"No, I mean, yes." Japan nodded sharply. "No, I do not need time to think, and yes I would like my Aura unlocked. It could be beneficial."

America smiled and ignored the panicked part of him that whispered this was a bad idea. He could trust Kiku. He believed in his friend. He laid his hand on Japan's chest, over his heart. The black-haired nation shifted uncomfortably but kept still.

 _"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality."_ Alfred intoned. _"Through this, we become a paragon of hope and virtue to rise above the horrors of the world. Infinite in potential and unbound by fate, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."_

White light flashed over Japan's frame. America shivered as his Aura depleted slightly, the energy draining from him in a rush that left him feeling lightheaded. He slumped in his chair, eyes slipping closed, and the Grimm Dragon roared behind his eyelids. Alfred forced his eyes open and sat up, nibbling his lip to keep himself from wincing. Japan did not notice his discomfort, staring at his hands and flexing his fingers.

"You okay?" America asked.

"Yes. I feel… energized." Japan said slowly. He lips twitched into a close-lipped smile. "Thank you, America-kun."

Seeing his soft, grateful expression, America knew he did the right thing. "You're welcome."

"What did you  _do?!_ "

Japan and America jumped, the latter springing to his feet and groping for a weapon that wasn't there. When his hands clasped air, he summoned lightning to his fingertips, ready to blast the person in the doorway. Upon spotting England, America relaxed slightly, dismissing the lightning but fully prepared to whip it out if necessary. And England's murderous expression might make it necessary. The Brit stormed into the room, grabbing Japan's arm and studying it intently. Whatever he saw there made him scowl and he dropped the limb and glared at America. He did not notice Japan's disapproving stare behind him, furious green eyes only seeing Alfred.

"What did we tell you _about unlocking people's Auras?!_ " England thundered.

Any nervousness was locked behind impassable steel doors and America eyed England neutrally. "Japan already knew about Aura. He is also one of the few aware of the entirety of Remnant, in case you forgot. There is no reason for him to not have his Aura awakened, which should have happened back on Remnant." America kept his tone cool and collected, not showing any of the simmering anger and hurt he felt.

"Aura is not something Earth should have." England snapped. "Yet you're giving it out like sweets!"

"It's  _one_  person." America stated.

"It's one  _nation_." England corrected him in a snarl.

"Which means he is trustworthy enough to use such power responsibly." America said clearly.

"Are you  _sure_?" England retorted. "Because last I checked you couldn't remember your own politics let alone your political relationship with him."

The jagged lance of hurt joined the nervousness behind the doors. America's features smoothed out into a detached mask of politeness. "Perhaps, but I remember Kiku is my friend."

"For now." England warned. "He is a  _nation_. His allegiances will shift one day and you will find yourselves on opposite ends of the battlefield."

The words washed over America like a wave but he remained unmoved, splitting the river like an ancient stone. "I guess you'd know that better than anyone,  _former British Empire_."

England flinched.

America sensed he struck a nerve but did not add pressure to it. Instead he strode over to the open door— he should have shut it as soon as he and Japan entered— and gestured out it. "If you're going to stand there and keep insulting my friend, kindly  _leave_." His blue eye flashed green.

England's jaw clenched, making a tendon quiver in his neck, and he stalked out the door. America slammed it shut behind him with more force then necessary, making the wall shudder. With a barrier safely between them, he leaned against it and allowed his expression to crumple.

_He really_ _**does** _ _despise me. I— I thought—_

"America-kun?"

Alfred jumped, whirling to Japan, who looked at him worriedly. America sniffed and rubbed at his eye. "This stupid eyepatch is itchy." He claimed.

Japan's brown eyes softened. "Of course."

"Sorry you had to see that argument, dude." America apologized.

"It is alright. I know things are… tense between you and England."

America laughed and somehow managed not to make it sound like a sob "Uh huh. Listen, it's pretty late and that Aura activation tired me out. I'm going to bed."

Japan looked as if he wanted to say something but refrained, nodding. "Good night, America-kun."

"Night, Kiku."

America exited the room and headed to his own. In the hallway, he felt eyes following him, but did not try to locate them. He already knew who it was. Once he reached the safety of his room he changed into his pajamas and flopped onto his bed, curling up under the blankets as his eyes burned pathetically.

 _England loved me in those first memories. What changed that? The Revolution? But Mattie said we reconciled. Then… is it just the Remnant stuff he hates?_ America curled up tighter, gripping the blankets under him.  _It is. I can tell. Every time he's reminded of Vale, he's disgusted._   _Doesn't he know Vale isn't my fault? It wasn't my choice. Atlas experimented on me. That's what Mattie told me. So why does England blame_ _ **me**_ _? Does… Does he think I_ _ **wanted**_ _this?_

_...What if I did? What if Mattie is wrong and I **asked** to become Vale in the end? He said I always wanted to be the hero. If I wanted to save Remnant and decided becoming Vale was the best way, I did all of this to myself. If that's true, I  **chose**  this. Is that why England's so disgusted with me?_

The fretful thoughts continued long into the night, plaguing America and keeping him awake.

He didn't get a wink of sleep.

XXXXXXX

_Canada stared at Ironwood blankly. America glared at him with similarly wary eyes and licked his dry, cracked lips in a nervous manner._

" _You want us to do what?" he asked for both twins._

_The General remained stoic but answered his question readily enough. That was something weird the twins had noticed about his captor. Ironwood was not happy they were there and seemed to want to make them as comfortable as possible, but was apparently helpless to free them._

" _You are going to fight a few Beowolves." Dark eyebrows rose. "Do you remember what those are?"_

" _They're wolf-like demonic creatures." Canada said nervously. "A type of Grimm."_

_The General had taught them much about the monsters of Remnant— the Grimm. Canada had always watched movies with America where an entire world's societies circled around defeating a monstrous foe but could not say he liked living in one. They had not faced any of the creatures yet but their captors' passion for defeating such monsters and creating weapons to kill Grimm was abundantly clear._

_So far the tests on the twins had remained blessedly mundane. A few more vials of blood were taken, their reflexes were checked, and the worst of it was the occasional rap on the arm or leg to see how well their Aura protected them. The white-haired doctor was usually the one to perform the tests, but whenever he needed assistance another scientist accompanied him. The scientists were nowhere near as charitable to the prisoners, and Canada had heard them pushing to begin more extreme tests, only for the doctor to shut them down._

_Apparently the situation had changed and they were ready for the next step. Canada was just relieved it did not involve the implied dissection they would eventually have to endure._

_Ironwood nodded. "That is correct."_

" _Why do we need to fight them?" America asked sharply._

_The General grimaced. "To show that you can."_

_America slowly raised a chained arm, letting the manacles jingle. "We don't have a choice."_

_Ironwood could not look them in the eye. "No. You do not."_

_America looked at his brother, who stared back with tired, nervous eyes. He gritted his teeth. "Fine. We'll do it."_

_Ironwood nodded. "Thank you for cooperating."_

_He opened the door and let in a few soldiers. Under the watchful eyes of their captors, they were released from their bonds. America's entire body was tense and Canada could tell it was taking every bit of restraint he had not to fight. He thanked his brother for his caution. They could not simply punch their way out of this; the soldiers all had Aura and the twins could not count on them to go down before they did. They needed a better feel for the situation before they tried anything._

_Almost like they sensed Canada's intentions, the soldiers blindfolded and handcuffed the twins before leading them out. Canada tried to count their steps and directions but a few harsh yanks on his arms sent him stumbling and messed up his focus. There was no way to tell if they were retracing their route either._

_A hand shoved Canada forward and he staggered, falling to the ground. A thud and grunt from his left told him America had received similar treatment. Hands grabbed Canada's arms and the manacles were removed. He leapt to his feet and ripped off the blindfold but their captors were already gone. Only he and America remained in the blank white room they had been left in. Canada focused on the only window in the featureless walls and America followed his gaze, sneering at the people that had to be standing behind the dark glass._

_An intercom crackled to life. "Subjects A and C." a male voice stated. "Today you will be facing the Grimm type 'Beowolves' in combat. You will be tested on your speed, endurance, and ability to eliminate your foes."_

_A podium rose from the clean white floor, showing two guns Canada recognized as standard for the Atlas military. America stalked forward and grabbed the guns, tossing one to Canada. The northern nation's nerves got the best of him and he nearly dropped his instead of catching it. His heart pounded, and he could practically hear the scientists making note of his clumsiness. Canada wanted to believe that the scientists needed both twins alive, but the fear that spawned from works of fiction and cold, hard facts made him worry about what they might do if he proved to be 'less useful' than America. His brother noticed his expression and grabbed his hand, squeezing it briefly._

" _It's going to be okay, Mattie." He said soothingly._

_Canada smiled faintly. "You remember my human name?"_

_America snorted, still smiling. "Of course I do, bro. Who do you think I am?"_

_Their gentle banter was interrupted by the crackle of the intercom. "The test will begin in three… two… one."_

_A slit appeared in the wall and a door opened, revealing nothing but blackness. America and Canada watched the empty space with bated breath. Canada gripped the gun and with every passing second that nothing emerged, his heartbeat quickened. Something in the shadows shifted, a hulking form rising to its full height, and glowing red eyes opened._

_A large black paw peeled out away from the shadows, and the Beowolf stepped out. No amount of descriptions or pictures could prepare Canada for a real Grimm. The large, hulking, wolf-like creature stood on two legs, bones protruding from its body and sharp teeth bared in a snarl. This could not be a simple Beowolf. It was too big for that. It must be an Alpha, and older Grimm._

_And it was not alone._

_The Alpha gave a low snarl and the shadows behind it writhed, exploding out of the doorway. Canada stared at the swarming river of black shaped rushing towards them, able to identify at least twenty pairs of red eyes in the mob. He recalled the information that had been hammered into his head. Beowolves worked as a pack and used their numbers to overwhelm the enemy. America recalled the same thing._

" _Stay together, back-to-back." He commanded sharply._

_Canada's back smacked into his brothers as the Beowolves surrounded them. A wolf sprang from the throng and America shot it, making it disintegrate into dust. As one, the rest of the Beowolves lunged for the humans, completely unbothered by their fellow's death. America and Canada got two shots in each— all four hitting their marks— before the remaining Beowolves were upon them._

_America used his gun as a club, bludgeoning a Beowolf and throwing its body at its kin before it could disintegrate, sending three stumbling back. Canada shot another at close range, wincing as the bullet flashed in his face, and when his vision cleared a Beowolf was there, jaws agape. America grabbed it by its scruff and threw it at the wall. Its body struck the structure with a sickening crack and it fell to the floor, fading into smoke._

" _Okay?" America asked rapidly._

" _Fine." Canada said just as quickly._

_He shot a Beowolf that tried to leap at America's exposed back and the two brothers returned to their defensive position. The Beowolves— though numerous— fell easily. They were young, without much of the bone plating their elders sported, and could not survive more than one shot. The Alpha was another story._

_It charged in without warning, plowing through its own pack to get to the 'humans'. Canada's shot hit it in the nose but it hardly flinched, its large paw swinging at the nation. It hit Canada in the side and he slammed into the wall, his breath exiting his lungs in a painful whoosh._

" _Mattie!" America cried._

_Canada's eyelids fluttered and he opened them to see blackness and gaping teeth. His heart froze in his chest and his mind went blank, his gun pointing uselessly at the floor. His mind screamed for him to do something, that he was better than this, that he couldn't freeze like a rookie, but the thoughts did not translate into actions and he sat like a useless newbie as the Alpha bore down on him._

_At the last second it veered to the side, its jaws sinking into the wall instead of Canada's flesh. America had jumped onto its back, unbalancing it, and the Grimm's focus shifted. It bucked and clawed at the person on its back, slamming America into the wall in an attempt to dislodge him, but the nation hung onto its neck with one hand, the other one pointing his gun. Canada aimed as well and the two nations fired._

_America's bullet hit its leg while Canada's hit its throat. The Alpha crumpled to the ground and Canada hurriedly emptied his clip into the Grimm. It didn't die, still snarling as it dragged itself towards him. A single shot to the head from America put it down for good, leaving an eerie silence behind. The last corpse faded, leaving the room quiet and pristine with only a few scuff marks as evidence to the battle that took place there._

_Canada and America panted, looking around at the empty room, and the northern nation's heart still pounded, adrenaline pumping through his veins. On the one wall, the door slid shut._

" _The test is complete." The scientist stated. "Return your weapons to the podium now or we will be forced to sedate you."_

_The podium rose again. America tensed, glaring at it._

_Canada put a cautionary hand on his arm. "Don't, Alfred."_

_America still had ammo but Canada was out, and there wasn't nearly enough left to help them escape. The guns were practically useless right now. America realized that too and gritted his teeth. He set his gun on the podium without protest. Canada did the same and it sank back into the ground. The soldiers came in, followed by four Atlesian Knights that kept their guns trained on the two nations. The twins did not resist as they were handcuffed and blindfolded once more, and unceremoniously returned to their chilly cell._

Canada woke covered in sweat. He glanced at his clock and saw it was seven-thirty. The nation rolled onto his back and sighed, dragging his clammy palms down his face.

"Damn it." He whispered.

He should have seen this coming. On Remnant, he had no time to process what had happened in Atlas, too busy with other concerns— like finding America and getting home— to think back on it. Now— especially with his and America's discussion yesterday— the memories were fresh, and his brain decided he was out of danger enough to seriously consider what he and America had gone through.

Canada was no stranger to nightmares. And if last night was of any indication, he was going to become even more closely acquainted with them in the near future. Canada could only hope that therapy could help again. Him and America both.

His bedroom door squeaked open and America strolled in. Upon seeing Canada was awake, he froze, smiling sheepishly.

"…Hi?"

Canada scowled. "Hello."

America took a step closer.

Canada's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Stay back."

"Who? Me?" America pointed at himself and smiled innocently. "You're actually awake for once."

"Obviously." Canada said. "So you don't need—"

America rushed forward, grabbing the mattress and flipping it over. Canada shrieked as he fell onto the floor.

"GOD DAMMIT ALFRED I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!" he bellowed.

America ran out the door, laughing. Canada shoved the mattress off of him and pulled it back onto the bed, muttering oaths under his breath. He noticed Kumajirou watching him from his bed on the floor, black eyes bright with amusement.

"It's not funny." Canada hissed.

Kumajirou had the gall to yawn at him and tuck his head back under his blanket. Canada grumbled angrily and got dressed, exiting his room. The others— except England, he noted— were already seated around the table when he got there. America had settled in between Japan and Pyrrha, and other than the occasional wary glance, he was taking the presence of the other nations surprisingly well.

A scan of the table showed some were dressed in day clothes while others were still in their pajamas. To Canada's surprise, Pyrrha was among those that were dressed. It was not her lack of pajamas that surprised him, but her attire. She was dressed in a nice t-shirt and black fitness pants, ones that Canada recognized as having bought for her.

"What's with the getup, Pauleen?" he questioned after he greeted everyone and got himself some pancakes.

"I have my bodyguard test today, remember?" Pyrrha reminded him. "I believe this attire is appropriate for the physical exam, yes?"

"Oui, that should suffice." France said after giving her an once-over. "Those are not the most flattering clothes but you pull them off very well."

Pyrrha blinked. "I appreciate your input, France, but I think practicality is more important than looks for this."

"I agree." Australia said before France could respond. "You look ready to kick arse."

Pyrrha smiled at him. "Thank you."

"You'll do great, Pyrrha." America assured her. "Do you need a ride?"

"I was hoping Matthew could take me." Pyrrha mentioned. "Mister President gave me a driver's license but I am uncertain if I want to drive yet."

"American drivers can be the worst." Canada informed her gravely. "Depending on where you are, they can be the nicest people ever or try to shove you off the road with their cars."

More than one nation shuddered. They all had experience with the best and the worst of American drivers. America himself coughed into his hand, amused by their horror. Then again, he could be found on either end of the spectrum, smiling and letting little old ladies pass in front of him or howling and raging with the most bloodthirsty of souls. There was a reason Canada insisted on driving whenever they went somewhere together.

"I do not think I am ready for that." Pyrrha admitted.

"I'll take you." Canada promised her. He glanced at the clock. "We should leave soon to get there early."

"Alright." Pyrrha said agreeably.

Canada nodded and turned to his pancakes, grimacing as he grabbed the sugary-goop America claimed was syrup. France put his hand over his plate before the violet-eyed twin could pour.

"Wait, Matthieu. I have something for you." France reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a bottle with a flourish.

Canada recognized it instantly. He smiled so big his cheeks hurt. "Thank you!"

He grabbed the Canadian maple syrup and hugged France tightly. His older brother chuckled and ruffled his hair before letting Canada finally get to his pancakes. Matthew poured a sizable amount of syrup on the stack and shoved a piece into his mouth. Sweet, syrupy goodness flooded over his tongue and he sank into a blissful haze of happiness.

Said happiness was interrupted when Australia glanced at him and cackled. "You look like a chipmunk, mate!"

"Don't choke, Canada-san." Japan cautioned.

China snorted. "Give it up, Japan. When it comes to pancakes, Canada is as gluttonous as his brother, aru."

His words made Canada glance at his brother's plate and he saw it was empty. Violet eyes flicked up to America's face and he noticed his twin was intentionally avoiding his stare. Canada recalled their previous breakfast conversation and grimaced.

_He still isn't eating as much as normal. Is it because of Vale or did his stomach shrink because he starved multiple times on Remnant?_

America had not said anything but Canada could read between the lines enough to tell his brother had 'passed out' from hunger more than once in Anima. Were his new portion sizes because of Vale's influence or was he subconsciously afraid of eating too much and not having enough food for later? Either option made Canada unsettled.

"I know you have not had much time, but have you been practicing for the physical exam?" Russia asked Pyrrha, mercifully interrupting Canada's thoughts.

"Yes. I have been utilizing the training room and gym." Pyrrha informed him. "Thank you for showing me it, Matthew."

"You're welcome." Canada said. He winced as he recalled  _why_  Pyrrha had wanted to know where it was. She had needed to let off some steam after England's comments about America, so Canada had shown her the room and let her train... as in watched her throw her javelin at targets with much more force than necessary.

_I really need to talk to England and clear things up before he says something antagonistic to America. I understand he's angry about Vale and the amnesia but he'll only end up hurting Alfred and ostracizing him._

"We have a training room?" America asked, unaware of his brother's thoughts. "I didn't know that."

China scoffed disbelievingly. "How could you not know? It's  _your_  house—"

His jaw snapped shut as he remembered America's amnesia too late. An awkward silence fell over the table. A low buzzing sound interrupted it, coming from France. He blinked and mumbled an excuse, rising as he pulled his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.

"Bonjour?" he asked, exiting the room to take the call.

Canada turned back to his pancakes, scarfing them like there was no tomorrow. He ignored his brother's muffled sniggers, knowing he was just as bad when it came to hamburgers, though China's exasperated sigh made him roll his eyes. America saw his expression and it only made him 'cough' more, causing a few of the nations to eye him oddly.

Alfred did not care, and Canada was secretly relieved. The situation was not as bad as it could be. Normally his brother would be openly and loudly laughing instead of restraining his giggles behind his hand, but Canada would take what he could get. He hated seeing America so closed-off around the other nations. He knew better than to think his twin's openness would last past breakfast though.

Eating made the setting relaxed and allowed the people America trusted to act as a buffer for those he did not. The fact that they— Canada, Pyrrha, Australia, Tony, and Japan— outnumbered China, Russia, and the temporarily missing France also helped. And England's absence was probably a factor in his cautious cheerfulness too, as much as Canada hated to admit that. Take that reprieve away and his brother would probably retreat once more.

Canada was proven right when the dishes were cleared of food. Russia and China's offer to assist in clearing them from the table was politely declined and Canada could see the disinterested mask returning to America's face. Russia appeared amused by the change, though China looked irritated, insisting he help clean up. Both reactions were seen and noted by Alfred. As America's expression soured, Canada could only brace himself. Thankfully, France chose that moment to come back, interrupting a brewing argument between Alfred and China.

The blond-haired nation smiled, seemingly oblivious to the tense situation he had walked into. "That was Italy. He had good news; Prussia and Germany are fully healed and awake."

Happy and relieved sounds rippled around the table.

"How are they?" Japan asked.

"Groggy but recovering." France shared happily. "They, Italy, and Romano will come as soon as they are able."

America's polite smile was strained. Canada wondered if he was the only one to notice. "Great." Alfred said. "The more the merrier." He grabbed the dishes and walked out of the room without another word.

XXXXXXX

Yang strode confidently into the Branwen Tribe's camp, pretending not to notice the dozens of eyes following her every move. None of the bandits attacked her, perhaps recognizing her similarity to their leader, or maybe it was her 'traveling companion's' attitude that made them keep their distance. The bandit she had convinced to bring her here crept through the camp like a shamed rat pretending it was a king, his steps arrogant but his eyes darting about apprehensively as he waited for someone to call him out for his deception.

As much as Yang would love to see that, she had bigger priorities than seeing the sleazebag get what was coming for him. Her gaze locked on the tent in the center of the camp as the flap opened and a black-haired, masked woman came out. Red eyes met violet and Raven removed her mask.

"Yang."

Yang halted in front of her mother and crossed her arms. "Raven."

Raven's lips dipped briefly before she smirked. "So, my daughter has finally found her way here." She declared loud enough for all the bandits nearby to hear. Raven paced back and forth, eyes never leaving Yang. "Have you come to join us? You are certainly strong enough."

Yang scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm here to find Ruby in Mistral."

Raven's smirk vanished and she stopped pacing, crossing her arms. Yang was disgusted to note the pose was similar to her own. "And why would coming to me help you with that?"

"Qrow's with Ruby. And Dad told me about your Semblance." Yang said bluntly. "I know you can make portals to people you've bonded with. You have one for Dad, one for me, and one for Qrow." Her eyes narrowed as she dared Raven to deny it.

The bandit leader did not, inclining her head in acknowledgement. "I see. So you decided to ask me." She sneered. "Typical family. Only comes around when they need something."

Yang barely kept her anger in check, breathing evenly to keep herself calm. "We're  _not_  family. You're just a means to an end. So how about we skip the useless chit chat, you open a portal to Qrow, and I'll be on my way."

"Is that how you truly feel about me?" Raven questioned.

Yang felt no guilt for her response. "Yes."

Raven's eyes narrowed. The brown-haired girl next to her glared murderously at Yang. The blonde-haired brawler tensed and lowered her hands to her sides, fingers clenching into fists. The bandits inched forward, eager to enter the fight they could sense brewing. Raven raised her hand and they halted.

"Fine. Business it is then." Raven agreed. "In exchange for my assistance, I need to take a few moments of your  _precious_  time to speak with you about something. Think of it as your payment."

Yang nodded sharply and followed Raven and the glaring girl into the tent. The girl— whose name was apparently 'Vernal'— made tea as Yang and Raven sat at a low table. Raven nodded in thanks as she poured her a cup, while Yang glowered at the bandit leader stonily.

Raven took an infuriatingly long sip of her tea, nodding at Yang's cup. "That's going to get cold."

"Pity." Yang spat. "What do you want to talk about?"

Raven set down her cup. "What a rude child you are. I thought Taiyang would raise you better."

"He raised me fine. Unlike  _you_." Yang snarled, eyes flashing red.

Raven's smirk returned and Yang forced herself to calm down. The bandit leader was probably trying to get a rise out of her. The thought of giving her that satisfaction was enough to turn Yang's eyes back to their peaceful violet.

"So? What do you want to tell me?" Yang demanded.

"So impatient." Raven sighed. She set her clasped hands on the table and looked Yang in the eye. "Before you go to Qrow and your sister, there are a few things you must know…"

Yang listened in silence as Raven explained extraordinary things. Wizards and magic, nations and Relics, Ozpin and his special treatment of Team STRQ, Grimm and Salem. It sounded so fantastical but she could not see why Raven would come up with such an elaborate lie. Her mother fell silent, and Yang waited for more. An apology, an explanation why she left her and Dad,  _anything_. Yet Raven said nothing.

Yang's temper flared. "That's it? That's all you have to say to me?"

"No." Raven stated. "I've told you the history. Now let me give you some 'motherly' advice: You cannot trust Ozpin. If you do, you will die."

Yang snorted. "That doesn't sound like advice. More like a coward's opinion, to me."

"Then let me change your 'opinion'." Raven said coolly. Her fingers tightened around the teacup and she set it down, careful not to crack the fragile glass. "If anyone were with you, I wouldn't tell you any of this. But I suppose I owe you the truth." Red eyes locked with violet. "Ozpin is the reason Summer Rose died."

Yang recoiled, her mind going blank. Of all the things she'd expected Raven to say, that was not it. Her brain started working again and she went over the timeline, grasping her coherence once more. "You left  _before_  Summer went on that mission."

"I did." Raven agreed. "I returned to the tribe after you were born. But this is not about why I left. This is about making you understand the big picture so you and your sister do not join Summer in her grave."

Yang's instinctive demand was for Raven to answer her questions about abandoning her, but hearing Summer's name and thinking of Ruby's possible involvement made her pause. If Raven really  _did_  know what happened to Summer…

She jerked her head in a nod. "Fine. You're not excusing yourself. You  _still_  weren't around when Summer didn't come back from that mission. How would you know about anything to do with her?"

"The bonds created with my Semblance are not simple… affection." Raven said vaguely. "It comes with certain awareness of the bonded person's circumstances."

"'Awareness'?" Yang echoed.

"I suppose you could call it empathy, but I think it's more comparable to how the Grimm sense fear." Raven informed her bluntly, red eyes glinting. "I can sense intense negative emotions from my bonded, specifically when they are in danger."

"You showed up when I was about to be killed by Neo." Yang realized. Her hands trembled in her lap. "And you sensed Summer when she was on that mission, didn't you?"

"I sensed her pain and went to her." Raven revealed. She shut her eyes tightly. "I arrived too late."

Comprehension struck like a slap and Yang blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. "Why didn't you take her  _home_?" she choked. "We would've had closure. We could have buried her—"

" _There was nothing left to bury._ " Raven snapped. "I appeared in the middle of a swarm of Grimm and enemies. Summer was  _already dead_ , and the Grimm  _tore her body apart while Salem's forces watched!_ " Her voice rose to a shout and her disinterested mask slipped, revealing the pain and fury simmering underneath.

Yang recoiled, bile rising in her throat.

Raven slipped back into fake calmness, face pale and eyes burning. "Summer was in Salem's land when she died. That  _hellish_  place is unmistakable. My best guess is her mission was to kill the Queen of the Grimm, a mission  _Ozpin_ sent her on."

"You don't know that." Yang protested.

"No." Raven admitted. "But do you think Summer would go to such a place on her own authority? And who else but Ozpin would order her to go on a mission that hundreds of other forgotten souls have failed?" Her smirk was cold as Yang flinched. "Do you honestly think Summer is the first he sent after Salem?  _No_. Killing Salem is Ozpin's priority. Her defeat is the goal he must achieve to break his curse. Summer was not the first naïve 'hero' he threw at Salem. He knew she was going to die in vain but  _he sent her anyway_."

"Her death  _wasn't_  in vain." Yang snapped. "Summer was trying to make the world a better place."

"Then what has changed?" Raven hissed. " _What_  did Summer's death accomplish? Ozpin's methods are the same. They have  _always_  been the same. He sends soldiers after Salem, they die in battle, and he looks to the next generation to repeat the process. He has failed a  _thousand_  times and he will continue to fail." Her red eyes burned. "That is why I will not take part in Ozpin's war, and neither should you."

"What am I supposed to do then?" Yang challenged. "Run and hide like you while Grimm plague the world?"

Raven shook her head slowly, mournfully. "It's a classic circumstance. Humanity versus annihilation. And since Ozpin is on humanity's side, he must be the good guy, hmm?"

Yang gritted her teeth. "Maybe not, but you could at least try to fight instead of sitting here  _robbing people_  like a coward."

"Is it cowardice when you are doomed to fail?" Raven asked. "What makes this generation so special that they can succeed when  _everyone_  before them died?"

"At least we're  _fighting_!" Yang snarled, unable to think of a stronger response to her cold question. "Unlike  _you_. You abandoned your family, your team. If you'd been there—"

"Qrow was never told of Summer's mission." Raven interrupted flatly. "If he'd known, he would have been with Summer. I bet he  _still_  doesn't know the full extent of it. He is Ozpin's right-hand man and greatest supporter, but he was kept in the dark. I would have been ignorant whether I was with Ozpin or not." Her red eyes softened the slightest bit. "You cannot trust Ozpin, Yang. He will keep things from you because he believes only  _he_  can hold all the cards, and those secrets will cause yours or Ruby's deaths.  _Please_ , walk away from his war. Don't become one of his sacrifices."

"I won't abandon Ruby." Yang said harshly. "All that matters is keeping her safe."

Raven sighed, eyes closing in something comparable to grief. "Then at least know better than to take Ozpin for his word. Ruby has Summer's eyes. He will try to use her as a weapon against Salem, with or without your knowledge."

Yang blinked. "What about Ruby's eyes?"

Raven gave her a humorless smirk. "I never found out what was special about Summer's silver eyes. According to Ozpin 'I didn't need to know'." She stood up. "That is all I have to say. Do you still want that portal to my brother?"

"Yes." Yang stated. "I won't give up like you did. But… I'll be careful."

She wanted to brush off Raven's claims as lies, but couldn't. Not when so much of it made sense, particularly why Ozpin would let fifteen year-old Ruby into Beacon early. Sure Ruby's skills were impressive, but simply stopping a Dust robbery wasn't enough to get an early ticket into the most prestigious Huntsmen school in the world. What if there were more reasons than that? What was it Ruby told her Ozpin said to her when they met?

" _You have silver eyes."_

Yang grimaced. She couldn't say Raven was lying, but she might not be telling the full truth, either. She'd take the bandit's words with a grain of salt, keeping them in mind for the future. Ruby's life and safety was more important than blindly trusting Ozpin by a long shot.

Raven nodded. "I suppose I cannot ask for more. Ozpin will have reincarnated by now. When you see him, ask Ozpin about Summer and silver eyes. See if he answers."

Yang grunted noncommittedly and watched as Raven slashed the air with her sword, creating a red scar in the air. She got on Bumblebee and shoved on her helmet, gripping the handlebars. Raven stood back, hand on her sword's hilt.

"Goodbye, Yang. If you are in trouble, do not expect me to come to your aid again."

"Thanks,  _mom_." Yang muttered sarcastically.

She revved the engine and drove through the portal, leaving Raven and the bandits behind.


	12. Everything Hurts

America read comic books. That made him an expert in all things to do with superpowers, so of course he knew he had to test his own and how to do said tests. That was why he mentally went over all the cool things he had seen characters with technology-based powers do in fiction as he sat in his room, squinting at the unplugged TV like an idiot while he sat on his bed ten feet away.

The screen stayed dark. He sighed, cracked his neck, and stared at it again. The screen remained black. The nation pouted, got up, and put his hand on the television. The unplugged TV immediately turned on.

_So I need to touch stuff_ , he thought.  _Got it._

America glanced around his empty room self-consciously, relaxing when his bedroom door stayed closed. He didn't want anyone walking in while he was testing his Semblance, friend or… not-really-a-friend. With his luck he'd panic and suddenly gain the ability to make wires wrap around and strangle his 'attacker'. America winced at the thought and hesitantly put his hand on the TV. Wires burst from the back of the device like something out of a horror movie and clawed at the empty air.

" _Holy shit!_ " America yelped, falling onto his butt.

The wires went limp as soon as his hand left the TV. Alfred gaped at the broken set and sighed, dragging his hand over his face. At least it wasn't smoking or on fire.

_Maybe I can fix that?_

Someone knocked on his door.

"America-kun? Are you okay?" Japan asked, voice muffled by the wooden barrier between them.

"I'm fine. Just startled myself." America called back.

Japan hesitated. "Do you need me to come in? I am helping China-san right now but—"

"No, I'm good. Keep doing your own thing." America said quickly.

"…If you are certain."

He heard Japan's footsteps retreat. America breathed a sigh of relief and strode over to the door, locking it. Canada would throw a fit if he knew, but his brother was with Pyrrha at her bodyguard test right now. What he didn't know wouldn't kill him. Or Alfred.

America sat on his bed, studying the other technological knickknacks he had brought to his room. He picked up a broken phone, grinning when it turned on. He scrolled through the contacts and pressed on Kiku's number. The cell rang twice before the call was answered.

" _Hello?"_

"Oops, wrong number. Sorry, Kiku." America apologized, stomach twisting at the little lie. It wasn't that he didn't want Japan to know what he was doing but… Okay, he just didn't want Japan to know what he was doing. Sue him for wanting to figure this out on his own.

" _It is alright."_  Japan said patiently.

"Bye." America said.

" _Goodbye."_

America hung up, looking at the open, empty back of the phone where a battery would usually reside. "Cool."

He moved on to the next item, a small lamp meant for camping. It was supposed to be attached to a propane gas tank, but he simply held it in his hand. It lit up and he grinned. His smile faded as he considered that it might be his fire powers that was lighting the lamp, not his tech-based Semblance. There was no way to tell, no line between America and Vale—

America put the dying lamp down and picked up a light bulb, amusing himself by turning it on and off rapidly. He glanced at the clunky computer he had dragged up from the basement, which sat innocently on his desk. Tony had informed him it was junk and didn't have the ability to access the internet. Alfred's fingers brushed the screen and it lit up. He reached for the keyboard, hesitated, and unplugged it before squinting at the computer.

_This is so cool_ , he thought intently.

Nothing happened.

_**This is so cool**_ , he thought again, focusing.

A document opened and he watched as 'This is so cool.' typed itself on the page. Keeping his hand on the monitor, America sat down heavily in the desk chair, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He leaned his head on his free hand and stared at the words, nibbling on his lip. He let his hand fall away and the computer immediately shut off. America took out the broken phone and placed a finger on the screen.

_Hey, Kiku. Do you think Mattie will bring home burgers and fries?_  He thought, gritting his teeth as he pictured the message sending.

Nothing appeared on his phone screen. A minute later, it buzzed, and a new text opened.

" _I doubt it. The food would be cold by the time they got here."_

America blinked and his previous message to Japan appeared above the black-haired nation's reply. He blinked again and the first message vanished.

_Holy shit I sent you a text with my brain_ , he thought.

There was no reply. Instead feet pounded out in the hall, drawing closer. There was a low thud and America winced, realizing Japan had likely collided with the locked door.

He got up and opened it, smiling sheepishly. "Hi."

Japan stared at him, eyes round and his phone in his hand. America saw his last message clearly displayed on the screen. He grinned, holding his phone up for Kiku to see he was still on the home screen. Japan's phone chimed and he looked down at it, mouth falling open.

There was a text from Alfred that read  _"Pretty cool, right?"_

Japan's eyes flicked from America's blank screen to his own. "Can you delete it?" he asked.

"Give me a sec." America murmured, eyes sliding shut as he gripped his battery-less phone tightly.

He heard Japan gasp. When he opened his eyes, all the messages are gone. Japan looked at him, visibly stunned, before shaking his head.

"You have a very strong ability, Alfred-kun." He said wearily.

America smiled nervously. "And a very dangerous one. Don't tell anybody?"

"I won't." Japan promised.

America's smile grew less forced. "Thanks, Kiku." He winced, putting a hand to his head as it pounded. "I think I overdid it. I'm going to lay down and read some nice, non-techy comic books for a bit."

"Alright." Japan agreed readily. He went to the door and hesitated, looking back at Alfred. "America, this Semblance will make you a target if word gets out. Technology is very influential in this world."

"I know." America said. "But I'm already a target. I'm not scared."

It was the truth. As long as he had people like Mattie, Pyrrha, Tony, and Kiku watching his back, he could handle almost anything that was thrown at him. He wasn't alone anymore, though he  _might_  still be surrounded by people that wanted to manipulate, hurt, and use him—

Japan's eyes softened and he nodded. "I see. Enjoy your comics. And please keep the door unlocked."

"No promises!" America called after the dignified nation.

He hesitated briefly before hacking into the security feed using his phone, smirking as he saw Japan run straight into the closed door and fall onto his butt, frantically scrambling to his feet before America could see.

Alfred sniggered and ignored the fear pooling in his gut. He deactivated the phone and plopped down onto his bed, picked up a comic, and began to read.

A few hours later, the sound of the front door opening interrupted America's current endeavor. He set down the comic he had been reading and raced down the stairs, taking extra care to stomp loudly as he passed England's closed door. An angry stream of curses made his efforts worth it and he smirked to himself, pleased with the response his immature act got.

He was still preening like a cat with milk when he entered the front hall to greet the newcomers. Pyrrha and Canada were removing their coats and hanging them up as he walked up, and he did not hesitate to rush over to the champion.

"How'd it go?" he asked eagerly

"Very well. I went through some courses but they were quite similar to my classes from Beacon. I am now officially your bodyguard." Pyrrha said.

"Yes!" America hugged her tight enough to lift her feet off the ground, beaming. "Congratulations!"

She laughed, pushing his arms gently, and he reluctantly set her down.

Canada snorted at his display, gazing skyward. "You're congratulating her for becoming your bodyguard?" he asked dryly. "Isn't that a bit egocentric?"

"But of course." America said mock-solemnly, ruining the false sincerity with a gleeful smirk. "I am the best, so anyone who guards me must be the best."

"Why thank you, Alfred." Pyrrha said, amused. "Though I have been informed of something I think you should know."

Alfred eyed her warily. "What is it?"

She smiled politely, but her eyes glinted with mirth. "The agents told me my position allows me to keep you from doing anything quote-unquote 'stupid'."

America put a hand to his chest. "Me? Do something stupid?"

"Don't hesitate to knock him out and drag him out of risky situations, Pyrrha." Canada advised her, ignoring his 'offended' twin.

"That's what the agents said as well during my interview." Pyrrha revealed.

"Did they ask you anything weird?" Alfred asked seriously, playful attitude vanishing in a snap. He wouldn't put it past the agents to try to interrogate the girl about Remnant, and though she appeared relaxed and unharmed that might not truly be the case.

To his relief, Pyrrha shook her head. "They only asked questions pertaining to my experience and the position. Though…" Her green eyes grew distant. "One question was a bit hard to answer."

Lightning flickered in America's palms and his blue eye flashed green. Maybe if he grabbed a computer he could hack into the agency's database and make their lives living hells—

"It wasn't their fault." Pyrrha hurried to say. "The question was a standard one."

"What was it, if I may ask?" Canada asked quietly.

Pyrrha's hands clenched. "They asked if I had ever killed."

America grimaced. No wonder Pyrrha didn't like that one. Before he could comment, Canada inhaled sharply, violet eyes growing wide with sympathy.

"Pyrrha—" he breathed.

"It's perfectly alright." She said firmly. "They did not ask for details."

America could not help but feel like he was missing something. He slung his arm around Pyrrha's shoulders. "I'm glad things turned out okay. If they were evil government agents and kidnapped you Mattie would've come to your rescue." He promised.

Canada snorted. "Really?"

"You know you would." America said cheerfully, ignoring his brother's muttered, sarcastic question about  _why_  the agents would kidnap Pyrrha in the first place. America knew why. But he didn't bring it up because it turned out those agents  _weren't_  the type normally seen in movies and comics that kidnapped people on their side. "And only because I was a few hours away." He tipped his head. "Actually, scratch that. Pyrrha would have rescued herself."

"Indeed." Pyrrha said and Alfred was happy to see her chuckling.

"Did anything fun happen while we were gone?" Canada asked as they walked into the mansion. "Have you talked to England yet?"

America barely kept his smile in place. "Well, I tested my Semblance a bit, China and Japan have been arguing— China more than Japan— Australia is trying to teach Whale how to do a backflip— he gave up on trying to teach Uni; he can't even  _see_  her. He was actually talking to empty air but I didn't have the heart to tell him.— and France beat Russia in basketball. I'll be honest; I never saw that last one coming."

Canada stared at him intently.

America cleared his throat. "And no, I haven't talked to England. Was I supposed to?"

"It was implied." His brother said flatly. "More than implied, actually."

"Hmm." America scratched behind his ear, looking at an empty section of wall intently. "I'm not so good with the subtle nuances of conversation."

His twin brother stared at him.

And stared.

And stared a little longer.

Then he threw up his hands. "No. I'm  _not_  allowing this."

Canada grabbed America by the arm, yanking him upstairs. Alfred squeaked in surprise, too stunned to think about resisting, and was unceremoniously dragged over the steps and towards the guest rooms. When they reached the top of the stairs he regained control of his body and pulled his arm free, rubbing it.

"What the  _hell_ , Mattie?"

Canada glared at him. "I'm not letting this continue. You two are going to  _talk_  like civilized family members."

"Been there, tried that. Kinda." America grunted. "He showed what he felt when he barged into my room and called me an idiot for activating Japan's Aura." Old hurt lanced through his chest but he squashed it viciously.

Canada balked. "You activated—" He dismissed that revelation for a later date and shook his head. "You just caught him at a bad time."

"It seems like  _every_  time is a  _bad_  time." America retorted.

Soft footsteps came from their left and he noticed Pyrrha had followed him. Her lips were thinned with displeasure, from what he could not begin to guess, but she kept her silence, allowing the twins to talk.

"Please, just  _try_." Canada begged. "I hate seeing you two like this again."

America flinched and glared at his shoes. Was Canada pulling  _that_  card or did he really mean it? "It's only been a couple days." He said tersely.

"And at this rate you won't try to reconcile for years." Canada said bluntly. "I won't let your relationship fall apart again after you two worked so hard to mend it."

America glanced helplessly at Pyrrha, who stared back with a neutral expression. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed loudly. "Fine. I'll try. Don't blame me if he hates me still."

"He won't." Canada said firmly. "Now go."

"Yes, Emperor Curly. I obey your holy commands." America muttered.

He did not notice their stunned expressions, walking down the hall and to England's room. He hesitated outside, hand raised to knock. Why was he so worried? This should not be difficult. He was just re-meeting his brother who used to love him but felt betrayed by him but loved him again and now possibly hated him— or at least part of him— and possibly blamed him for his current situation. No biggie.

_If I walk away Mattie will have a fit._  America grimaced and knocked on the door.

"Come in." his older brother's accented voice called.

America opened the door to see England sitting at a desk, a laptop open in front of him. His brother's lips pursed when he saw his guest and America winced.

"Hi." he said timidly.

England scowled. "What are you doing here?"

America had half-a-mind to turn around and walk out. Instead he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Uh. Canada says you can see magical creatures and stuff."

"And?" England grunted, glare returning to his laptop.

"We can see Uni— my unicorn— now." America said.

England's gaze snapped to him, eyes wide with shock— and delight? "You  _can_?"

His excited tone startled America, and for the first time he could see the nation from his earliest memories; His kind, supportive, wonderful older brother England. Emboldened, America nodded. "Yeah. We both can. Mattie thinks it might be because of Remnant or Mantle and Vale—"

Like iron doors slamming shut and blocking out the sun, England's expression closed. "Really?" He asked coldly, turning back to the laptop. "I suppose that is a possibility. Remnant has more magic in the air than Earth and you two were there for quite a while."

"Japan and the other nations still can't see Uni though. Pyrrha can't either." America mentioned. "So… it must be because of Mantle for Canada and Vale for me. Their Auras allow us to see Uni."

England's fingers tightened on the mouse and he scowled as he accidentally highlighted everything on the screen. "How unfortunate."

America bit his lip. He wanted to feel angry and insulted, but instead he felt tired and his eyes prickled. He forced the tears not to fall. He was a nation. Nations did not cry about something as stupid as this. So England was being a jerk. So what? America didn't care. He didn't even remember his brother that well so why should he care? He cursed England for making him feel like an unwanted, annoying child that wasn't worth his time but deep down suspected it was his own fault for letting Atlas shove Vale's Aura into him.

America turned on his heel, fully intending to leave, only to pause. Canada really wanted him and England to talk, and seemed certain the other nation did not despise him. America should try just a little harder. Maybe a different topic would get England to open up. He turned back to the bushy-browed nation, eye landing on the computer set in front of him.

"Is that your laptop?" America asked cautiously.

" _N_ — Yes." England said. "It is." He glared at the login screen murderously.

America stepped closer, peering at the bubbles floating serenely in the background. "Did you forget your password?" he asked sympathetically.

England gave a noncommittal grunt.

America smiled and reached for the laptop. "Let me—"

" _No_." England blurted, yanking the laptop away from him.

America recoiled, stung.

Once again the mask flickered, this time revealing the guilt England hid there. "America—" In a instant, it was gone, and England turned back to the locked laptop. "Just leave me in peace, please."

Alfred did not cry. He wouldn't cry over this. If England hated him, the other nation wasn't worth his tears. Yet Alfred's chest ached, and for once it wasn't because of the Grimm Dragon in Vale.

"Okay." He said, and hated how his voice came out choked.

England's green eyes went wide and he looked fully at the other nation. "No, America. I didn't—"

America had already left the room, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. He was overreacting. He knew he was. England had not said anything particularly wounding and yet here America was, sniffling like his older brother had just disowned him.

Canada and Pyrrha were waiting in the hall, and their sorrowful expressions revealed they'd seen his distress. America shoved past them, refusing to meet their eyes. A tiny part of him wanted to scream at Matthew that he was  _wrong_  but that desire was smothered by the hurt ripping through his heart.

"I'll be in my room." He said, voice cracking.

Canada's expression crumpled— with sorrow or pity? "Al—"

America ignored his brother and hurried to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, locking it, and blocking out the outside world. He leaned against it and slid to the floor, staring at the ceiling.

He did not shed a tear.

XXXXXXX

"—I didn't mean it."

The words never reached America's ears. England watched his brother flee and turned back to the laptop. He slammed his head unceremoniously onto the keyboard.

"Idiot!" he snarled.

He  _was_  an idiot. He was a stupid, arrogant prat who always said the wrong thing.

When America arrived, England had been in the middle of trying to get into the conman's computer, the password laying on a slip of paper in the open. He stopped when America appeared; he had no intention of letting him know he and France were looking into the person who had ordered the conman to mug America. As such, England had been a little peeved he'd been interrupted, and that peevishness had shown itself in his usual snarky nature.

He should have changed his tune as soon as he saw how uncertain America was. Instead, that uncertainty had made him angrier. All England could think about was how not-America-like his brother acted. The hesitation, the twitchiness, the shyness, the fidgeting;  _none_  of it was his brother.

So England lashed out, like he always did when he was upset, and said  _every_  wrong thing.

And he was brutally aware of it.

" _Idiot_." He hissed again.

"I do hope you are talking about yourself." A voice said lightly.

England grimaced and met Pyrrha's calm green eyes.

She raised her hand and knocked belatedly. "May I come in?"

"Of course." England said tiredly, gesturing at an empty chair. "And for your information, I  _am_  talking about myself."

The champion smiled and sat down, legs neatly crossed. "Matthew was going to come in here but I sent him after Alfred. Alfred was very upset."

England held back an instinctive barb. "Obviously." He thought back to the look on America's face when he snapped at him and his guilt was buried by burning anger. He glared at the doorway. "It's not my fault he's so bloody sensitive."

Pyrrha frowned lightly, and the expression somehow reminded him of his mother at her most disapproving. "Arthur, he  _doesn't know you_."

England flinched.

"He doesn't know you," Pyrrha repeated ruthlessly. "—which means you are a  _stranger_  to him. A stranger who is his brother, and who from his point of view keeps rejecting him."

"I'm not rejecting him." England protested.

"You are." Pyrrha stated. "Because you despise Vale."

England gritted his teeth, hand clenching around a staff that was not there.

If Pyrrha noticed the motion, she did not mention it. "America is Vale now. Vale is a part of who America is. Yes, Vale is the reason for his amnesia but even with Vale's presence and that amnesia,  _he is still your brother_. He is still  _Alfred_." Her gaze softened. "It would do you good to remember that."

"I am  _trying_." England said, resigned.

This girl was the last person he should be talking to. She was a human— a  _teenager_ at that— from another world, and they were far from close. Though perhaps that was why he found it so easy to be honest with her; because she would not be around forever to hold his words against him. In return, she had no ulterior motives that would allow her to keep her thoughts to herself.

"Then why do you act so rude to him?" she asked openly.

"His mistrust reminds me of the time after the Revolutionary War." England admitted. He fought against the miserable memories that threatened to swarm him, holding them at bay. "You do not understand how  _long_  it took for us to become family again. We avoided each other for years and— No." he shook his head. " _I_  avoided  _him_  for years. Eventually he realized what was happening and treated me the same."

"So you intend to push him away again?" Pyrrha challenged.

"No." England said. "It is  _Vale_  I cannot stand. Vale forced itself into my brother's body and took his memories, possibly merging their souls. I will  _not_  forgive that." His anger bubbled back and he slammed his fist into the desk, making it quiver.

Pyrrha did not flinch in the face of his anger, as polite and poised as always. "I understand. But still,  _it is not Alfred's fault_. He  _cannot help_  having Vale's Aura. You need to realize that."

She stood up, brushing nonexistent dirt of her pants, and went to the door. "I know I am not as old and wise as you, but you need to stop this. You need to stop rejecting your brother. Alfred is still there. You still  _have him_. Accept who he is and make amends before you hurt him again. If you don't…" Her green eyes hardened. "I don't know if I'll ever forgive you, England."

With that final warning she walked out, leaving England alone once more.

XXXXXXX

Ruby was preparing dinner with Jaune, Nora, and Ren when someone knocked on the door. It appeared the Huntsmen and Huntresses her Uncle had set out to find today were finally arriving. She hurried to grab a tray of tea and mugs and walked out of the kitchen, balancing it carefully.

"Just a second!" she said, focusing on the tray as she walked.

She entered the living room area of their residence and heard the door squeak open. Looking to the doorway, she smiled in preparation for the newcomers.

"Hey, Uncle Qrow!" she called. "We weren't sure how many people there are going to be so we—"

The tray slipped from her numb fingers, clattering to the floor.

Yang's lips quirked in amusement and Weiss rolled her eyes, giving a good-natured sigh. Ruby blinked at them, taking in their changed appearances. Weiss had a new dress and Yang's outfit had changed drastically, a change augmented by her golden robotic arm. And yet when Ruby looked at them, it was like nothing had changed at all in the past few months.

Her two teammates were back.

Ruby squealed as she hug-tackled her sister and partner, knocking them both over. Weiss gave a yelp of protest and Yang burst into laughter, and Ruby joined her sister, giggling elatedly as she held her two teammates close. Her legs kicked in the air like a puppy receiving belly-rubs and Yang cackled louder.

"You're here! You're here you're here you're  _here_!" Ruby cheered.

"We are. We're also smushed." Yang teased. "I don't think Weiss-cream appreciates being a sandwich."

"It's tolerable." Weiss sniffed, and that admission was enough to make Ruby hug her tighter. Rather than roll her eyes and attempt to shove Ruby away, Weiss embraced her as well.

"I missed you." The silver-eyed girl heard her whisper.

"I missed you too." Ruby whispered back. She rolled off them and helped them up, still beaming. "You're just in time for dinner. We made it for the Huntsmen Uncle Qrow was supposed to bring back so there's plenty."

"Sounds good." Yang said, rolling her shoulders. She glanced at Nora and Ren, nodding in greeting, before her eyes settled on Jaune. "Nice upgrade, Vomit Boy."

Jaune's smile was noticeably strained. "I grew."

Yang tipped her head, eyes narrowing in thought. "I can see that." The edge to her tone suggested she had caught on to Jaune's less than enthusiastic reply.

Ruby's heart froze in her chest.  _We have to tell them about—_

Nora bounced up to Yang and Weiss, beaming at both of them. "How'd Qrow find you?" she asked eagerly. "Mistral's not exactly tiny. There's the school and the government buildings and the shops and the lower levels and the higher levels and the—"

Ren put a hand over her mouth, stifling her continued mumbling. The muffled sound of her voice came from behind his palm and Ruby giggled.

"I used Raven's portal Semblance to get to Qrow." Yang explained briefly.

"I intended to find my sister but ran into your uncle instead." Weiss said.

"But Uncle Qrow was in the… less-nice part of town." Ruby mentioned. "Why were you there?"

"It's where my ride dropped me off." Weiss said. She cleared her throat. "He was… less than official."

Ruby blinked. "Oh. Huh."

"Not to burst your bubble, Weiss." Qrow interjected. "But all of Atlas' forces were pulled back to the Kingdom before the borders closed."

Weiss's face fell. "My sister isn't even here?"

Qrow's face softened. "No. Sorry, kid."

Weiss shifted uncomfortably, looking terribly lost.

"Well we're here!" Ruby said, rushing over to hug her despondent partner.

"Yeah. We're together now." Yang encouraged. Her eyes flashed red. "Well,  _most_  of us are."

"Do you think Winter knew?" Jaune asked before Ruby could comment.

He looked at Qrow as he spoke, and what he was truly asking hit Ruby like a freight train, making her flinch. Yang noticed her reaction and frowned. Weiss only heard the angry undertone to Jaune's voice.

"Knew what?" Weiss demanded.

"I doubt Specialist Schnee had the clearance for Atlas's little scheme." Qrow told the knight.

" _What_  scheme?" Weiss demanded.

Qrow told them.

Even though she had heard it before, Ruby still cringed as he shared the truth about Ozpin, nations, the Relics, Matthew and Alfred, and what Atlas did to the twins. She kept her hands clasped in front of her to stop herself from putting them over her ears like a child, the horrific story still able to take her breath away and send her reeling.

_How could anyone experiment on people like that? It's horrible._

Weiss's disgusted— and hurt?— expression did not help her resolve. "I can't believe Ironwood would do something like that."

"Well, he did." Jaune said bluntly, his eyes shadowed. "And Matthew and Alfred paid for it."

"If it makes you feel any better, he was acting under orders from his personification." Qrow said.

"It doesn't." Yang said stiffly. She gripped her robotic arm, eyes flashing red again, took a breath and looked around. "So where are Curly and the others hiding?"

"And where's Pyrrha?" Weiss asked. "Is she on a mission with them?"

Ruby's smile froze on her face and her eye filled with tears. Nora's lips pressed together like she was trying not to cry and she abruptly turned around, hiding her face in Ren's chest as her shoulders shook. Ren held her and closed his eyes, face pained. Of the four, only Jaune remained seemingly unaffected, but Ruby knew his apathy was a mask.

"They're dead. Pyrrha as well." he said tonelessly.

Yang's violet eyes went round. Weiss put a hand to her mouth.

" _All_  of them?" she whispered faintly.

Jaune avoided their gazes. "They died in Kuroyuri during a fight with Emerald and Tyrian. The building they were in exploded. There… There was nothing…" His jaw clenched and he could not bring himself to finish.

Yang's face crumpled but she held herself together, gathering Ruby into a tighter hug. Weiss rushed in on her other side and Ruby felt her shaking and heard her ragged, hitched breaths. And suddenly it was  _real_. Her friends were dead. They were dead and gone and never ever coming back, just like Mom. Their grief tore through the walls she had constructed and she crumpled to the ground, taking her sister and partner with her.

"They're gone." She hiccupped. "They're  _gone_."

Tears gathered in Yang's eyes. "Ruby—"

"It was  _my_  mission." She blurted, her voice strained with anguish and loathing. " _I'm_  the one who said we should go to Mistral. I should have been a better leader. I should have been more careful. If I'd just—"

"Don't do that. There's nothing you could have done differently." Yang interjected, but her voice shook.

"You don't know that!" Ruby sobbed. "You  _weren't there!_ "

Yang recoiled like she had been struck.

Ruby flinched as well. "That's not— I didn't—"

Yang relaxed and grasped Ruby's shoulders firmly, looking into her eye. "No. You're right. I  _wasn't_  there. But I am now."

"We both are." Weiss stated, placing a hand on their backs.

"We  _all_  are." Jaune corrected, his cheeks were wet with tears.

Yang and Weiss separated their arms and Jaune, Nora, and Ren joined their circle, keeping close together as they lowered their heads and mourned. Ruby finally allowed herself to cry openly, her teammates' warm hands upon her back and their presences keeping her tethered. She wanted to believe that since Yang and Weiss were here, everything would be okay. But it  _wasn't_  okay. Team RWBY was still incomplete, and Team JNPR was irreversibly broken. Things could never go back to the way they were at Beacon.

So Ruby cried with them, mourning everything they had lost.

She never noticed Qrow had left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are finally caught up! From now on, I will upload chapters when they are uploaded on Fanfiction.net. The official update dates are Monday and Friday but I tend to update in between that too because I have no self control, haha. 
> 
> Now that we're here, I can finally tell you Weight of the World has a TV Tropes page!!!! *happy dancing*
> 
> You can find it here:
> 
> http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/WeightOfTheWorld
> 
> I don't know how up to date it is but there you go. 
> 
> Thank you for all your support. *hugs*


	13. Panic Button

Weiss was dea— bone tired. Her exhaustion ran deeper than anything she had experienced before, weakening her muscles and leaving her close to collapsing beneath it. A meal that should have been filled with laughter and smiles was quiet and somber, with only the occasional clink and low voice breaking the silence. She couldn't bring herself to try to alter the atmosphere, no matter how much it pressed down on her— on all of them.

How could she when she just found out so many had died when she wasn't there? Death happened all the time in their world, of course it did. She knew that. She understood it. She had seen the aftermath of Grimm and White Fang attacks more times than she wished to remember. But she had never lost a close friend, let alone so many people at once.

Pyrrha, Matthew, and Alfred had been her age. They were her  _friends_. As she prodded at her meal, she could not help but think back to the times they spent together, to Pyrrha's steady presence, Alfred's boisterous laughter and Matthew's dry, quiet wit. They were gone now. Their lives had been snuffed out like they were  _nothing_. And not only them, but everyone who had come to find the twins were gone as well.

Weiss's heart ached with regret as she thought about Arthur. She had misjudged the man, believing him to be like her father when his actions showed that was far from the case. She would never get to apologize to him for her attitude. She would never get to talk to Pyrrha again. She would never see Alfred's obnoxious smiles again. She would never get to watch as Matthew beat Yang at board games again. All those little things were impossible now.

Weiss lowered her head and refused to cry. Ruby had just stopped weeping and was eating her food robotically, staring at the wall with her single, blank eye. Weiss wondered how long she had been keeping her grief under lock and key, and guessed it was however much time had passed since she found out their friends were dead.

Weiss's fork scraped on the plate, emitting a horrific screeching sound. Yang and Jaune jumped and she winced. "My apologies."

"It's fine." Jaune said.

Qrow sighed and set down his utensils. "Enough of this. I know you don't want to hear this now, but we need to keep moving forward."

None of the teenagers said anything, not even Oscar. It was strange to think that young boy had the spirit of Ozpin in his head, but Weiss had found out stranger things about this world. She noticed Yang staring at the kid again with narrowed violet eyes and nudged her subtly under the table.

Yang transferred her dissatisfied glare to Qrow. "Fine. What are we doing?"

Qrow leaned back, running his hand through his black hair. "Finding other Huntsmen was a bust. All of them are out on missions. There's no point in wasting more time recruiting people who aren't there. We need to get to Kuchinashi as soon as possible."

"Why Kuchinashi?" Ren asked.

Qrow smirked. "My exploration of this fine city wasn't a complete waste of time. I found out Roman Torchwick has been active in Kuchinashi. If he's there, Neo will be with him."

"Wait.  _Neo_? What about her?" Yang demanded. Her prosthetic fist clenched around the table, cracking the wood.

Qrow blinked, grimacing, and to Weiss's disgust, he took out his flask of alcohol and took a gulp. "Neo is Mistral, Yang."

Yang's eyes turned red. "You've got to me  _kidding me_."

"Nope." Qrow said idly, but Weiss could see the tension in his frame as he waited for his niece's reaction. "Neo is the personification of Mistral and the only one who can get the Relic of Knowledge. Salem knows this. So unless you want to kill her and let Salem go after a baby, we have to protect her."

Yang crossed her arms and scowled, eyes still crimson.

"It's okay, Yang." Ruby piped up before her sister could explode. "We have to protect Mistral to protect the Relic. I know she's a bad guy but we have to do it to keep Mistral— the city and the Kingdom— safe."

Weiss studied her leader intently. Did Ruby truly believe that? If she did, she was much more forgiving than Weiss could ever be. Either that or she was hopelessly naïve. The taut set of Ruby's jaw showed the latter thought was most definitely not the case, and Weiss's heart sank even as the logical part of her mind approved of her leader's new awareness. She knew exactly what had caused her change of heart. If Yang's shift in expression was anything to go by, she realized that as well.

"Fine." Yang spat. "We'll find Neo. How are we getting to Kuchinashi?"

"No airship will take us there." Ren said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Oscar asked. "Surely if we pay them enough—"

"No amount of lien will make any lawful pilot fly us to Kuchinashi." Qrow explained. "The city's a cesspool of criminal activity. The only people who go there are criminals."

"And the people who are trying to find criminals." Nora added.

Qrow shook his head. "Nope. I don't think you all understand what I mean when I call Kuchinashi a ' _criminal_  city'. It's a paradise for outlaws. No clean law enforcement or Huntsmen and Huntresses are welcome there. Honestly, we'll be lucky to make it past the borders without being targeted by the friendly locals."

Weiss glanced at Yang and saw her looking at her food, brow furrowed in thought. Before she could comment, the brawler looked up. "I think I might be able to avoid that kind of reception."

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.

"They won't welcome Huntsmen and Huntresses on the right side of the law, but what about a rogue one?" Yang commented. Her eyes dulled to a pale blue color. "On my way here, the people I encountered were afraid of me because of what I did to Alfred. They think I'm a criminal."

Weiss flinched. She had completely forgotten about Yang's televised assault of the twin.

Ruby apparently had as well. Her eye widened in distress. "Yang, you're not a criminal! Al is—" She shuddered, blinking rapidly. "—was fine. A-and you were tricked. You didn't mean to hurt him."

Yang's eyes returned to a soft purple. "You all know that, and that's enough for me. But the rest of the world thinks I'm a crook. We can use that to get me into the city and—" Her lips twisted into a snarl. "— maybe make them think I'm looking for Torchwick for employment."

"That could work." Qrow commented.

"I don't like this." Weiss blurted before he could continue. "Yang, you're  _not_  a criminal." She realized she had repeated Ruby's exact words and balked.

Yang smiled and nudged her shoulder playfully. "Awww. Are you defending my honor, Weiss-cream?"

Weiss turned pink. "Yes. I am. Since you refuse to do it." Her icy blue eyes landed on Qrow. "Can't  _you_  play the part of a criminal?"

Qrow chuckled, unoffended. "I'm afraid not, Ice Princess. I'm well-known as Ozpin's right-hand man. If I show up in Kuchinashi and start asking around there'll be trouble."

"We can't send Yang in alone though." Jaune said, eyes dark. He glanced from Weiss to Ruby. "And I'm not sure all of us should go to Kuchinashi. That place sounds dangerous— and I mean that in a way we haven't really faced before."

"Are you offering to be my partner in crime, Vomit Boy?" Yang teased, but Weiss got the feeling that she was trying to move the subject away from what 'dangers' lurked in Kuchinashi.

It struck her then that the criminal city was the last type of place she should go. Any native could see the benefits of capturing her and trying to ransom her to her father. Weiss shivered, blinking as a warm hand landed on her shoulder. Nora smiled at her briefly and pumped her arm, showing off her muscles. Weiss' lips quirked at the girl's silent vow to defend her. Not that she needed it, of course but it was appreciated regardless.

"That might be a good idea." Qrow commented. "Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Yang can search the city while the rest of us remain on the outskirts for extraction."

"What? Why are Weiss and I being left out?" Ruby blurted.

Qrow leveled a severe stare at her, no humor on his face. "Your partner is a Schnee. That'd make her a target. And you won't be able to handle Kuchinashi."

Ruby gaped at him, hurt and anger flashing across her features.

"You'll want to help people and could end up compromising Yang." Qrow continued relentlessly. "We aren't going to the city to rescue people or be heroes. We're going to find Mistral. Look me in the eye and tell me you would be able to ignore people calling for help— or  _"help"_ — and focus on this mission."

Ruby's gaze dropped to the floor. The look on her face reminded Weiss of a kicked puppy and her heart squeezed. "But… we just reunited…" she whispered.

Yang hugged her and Qrow ruffled her hair sorrowfully. "Sorry, kid. I hate to say it, but duty comes first and you're  _not ready for this_. Truthfully, none of you are." His red eyes scanned the group and he looked pained. "You all should still be in school."

Weiss lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. Spotting Ruby's quivering ones, she reached out and grasped her fingers, squeezing them.

"We understand." She said levelly. "But we will stay nearby in case they need an extraction."

"So what's the story? Why are these three with me?" Yang asked, jabbing a thumb at Jaune, Nora, and Ren.

"One of our members died so I had a falling out with Qrow and attacked him. My remaining team members left with me and we ran into you." Jaune supplied in a flat monotone.

The glare he shot Qrow said he would be fully willing to act out the 'falling out'.

Oscar's eyes flashed, signifying Ozpin was taking control. "That is a feasible reason." He said, the former professor's normal accent coming from the boy's mouth. It was a little disconcerting. "It would not be the first time something like that happened."

"I wonder why." Yang muttered.

Weiss was the only one to hear her. She shot the blonde-haired brawler a worried look.

"We still need to find a way to get to the city." Qrow said. "Salem's forces could already be searching and they'll likely want to retrieve the Relic before the next semester at Haven starts. We're low on time. We need a pilot."

A thought struck Weiss and her unease drifted away. She wouldn't be able to help much in Kuchinashi, but she could at least get her team there. She smiled genuinely for what felt like the first time in years. "I think I know a pilot who will take us."

XXXXXXX

Pyrrha carefully rubbed her weapon until it shone, the cloth she was using to clean it gripped lightly in one hand. Miló was not dirty from the bits of training she had completed, but the methodical process of cleaning the weapon soothed and comforted her. Miló would be ready for battle if the need arose, though only if she had it nearby.

It was disconcerting that she could not bring the javelin-Xiphos-rifle with her everywhere like she could back home, and she could not grow used to having to move about unarmed. Of course Remnant had places where weapons were unneeded or not allowed, but not to the extent of Earth. Here, carrying a weapon in the open was a way to attract trouble of the legal kind. Having arms on one's person was seen as unnecessary by many in this world, and with no Grimm or Huntsmen to speak of she could see why. But it was still strange not to have her weapon's reassuring weight on her back at all times.

Something warm nudged the hand holding the cloth and she jumped. Spotting nothing around her, she hesitantly reached out into the air as her heart pounded with adrenaline.

"Uni?"

A soft, velvety nose touched her palm.

Pyrrha took a calming breath and stroked it. "Hello again." She said, looking at the empty air near her hand.

She had no way to tell if the unicorn responded in any way, and eventually the warm nose departed, leaving her alone once more. Maybe. Pyrrha shook her head and picked up her weapon once more. It was…  _strange_  to have an invisible pet around, but she was slowly getting used to it. Kind of.

She would adjust.

She had to.

_Tap tap tap._

Pyrrha looked to the door, surprised to see Japan of all nations standing in her doorway.

"Pyrrha-san." He bowed slightly. "May I come in?"

"You may." Pyrrha allowed.

Japan strode into the room, clasping his hands in front of him. "I hope I am not intruding."

"You aren't." she assured him. "I am merely cleaning Miló."

"I see." Japan hesitated visibly. "I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but I was wondering how you are adjusting to your stay here."

"I'm… adjusting." Pyrrha said vaguely. "This world is similar to home in some ways, but very… different as well."

His brown eyes pierced hers as if they were staring into her soul. "Do you feel out of place?"

Pyrrha opened her mouth to deny it but paused. "I suppose."

Japan nodded slowly. He took a cautious step, then another, and sat on a chair near her bed, keeping eye contact with her. "I understand. This world can be very strange. But strange is not bad." He hesitated briefly but pressed on. "I was isolated from the rest of the world for a long time, and when my borders opened and I was exposed to it once more, it was quite a change."

Pyrrha blinked. "I didn't know that."

Japan eyed her solemnly, and she was struck by the reminder that he was thousands of years old. The remembrance rattled her and she averted her gaze, returning it to Miló.

"I am not the most open person. In fact, Alfred says I can be quite cryptic." Japan admitted. "But what I am trying to say is, you are not the only one who may feel out of place at times. If you do not feel like you can talk to Alfred or Matthew about these feelings, I am willing to listen."

Thinking back, this might be the most she had ever heard him speak. He was quiet in that way, around her at least, though his demeanor reminded her of Ren. Pyrrha's heart grew heavy but she smiled. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

A familiar blond head walked past her door and she stood up, hurrying to the doorway. "Arthur!"

England stiffened and stopped, turning back to look at her. "Yes?"

Pyrrha recalled their last conversation and winced internally. She did not regret her words, though in hindsight she supposed she was a little harsh. "Have you spoken with Alfred again?"

England's green eyes darkened. "No."

…Forget what she said. She was as harsh as she needed to be. Irrational anger rushed through her veins but she kept it in check. "Arthur—"

"I'll speak with him after that appointment of his." England interrupted gruffly. He muttered something under his breath about being lectured by a child.

"Sorry." Pyrrha said, unoffended.

England's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "No, you're right to insist. We nations tend not to rush things. If you didn't press me I'd probably avoid him for years." He grimaced.

That made Pyrrha feel a little less guilty about her earlier harshness towards him. She couldn't help it. He upset her friend, and shouldn't push away his family like that. "You're welcome." She hesitated.

England noticed. "Is there something else?"

"Well…"  _I was wondering if you have made any progress on how you plan to get me home._  "It's nothing. Sorry for pulling you aside like this."

"I wasn't hurrying anywhere." England assured her gruffly. He glanced behind her at the clock. "You may want to get ready. America's appointment is today and you'll have to leave soon in order to arrive on time."

"I will." Pyrrha promised.

She went back into her room, smiling apologetically at Japan. "Sorry for leaving during our conversation."

"It's alright." He promised. "England tends to be hard to catch out of his room these days." He stood and nodded. "I will leave you to prepare for your departure. Have a good day, Pyrrha-san."

"Same to you."

Pyrrha shut the door behind him and leaned her head against it with a sigh. She grabbed her wallet, identification, and other necessities, slipping Miló's holster onto her back and putting the javelin inside. She took two steps and stopped, returning to her bed. Slowly, she removed the holster and the weapon, laying them down gently. Then she went back to the door, shutting it behind her. As she walked down the hall towards where she could hear Alfred and Matthew's voices, her strides were firm and confident.

She could almost pretend her back didn't feel bare.

XXXXXXX

"I think I left the oven on." America said.

"Call Japan and have him check then." Canada replied unsympathetically.

America patted his pockets. "Oh darn, I left my phone at home."

"I can see it right there." Canada stated.

America coughed into his elbow. "I'm sick. I can't go."

"You're supposed to go to the doctor if you're sick, idiot." Canada sighed.

America slouched, gripping the car seat below him. "Can we please go home?"

"No. You promised your boss you'd let the doctor check you out." His brother said. His violet eyes moved in the mirror, glancing at America in the back seat. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I don't know." America said, trying not to sound hysterical.

He must have failed because Pyrrha shot him a concerned look. He tried to smile at her reassuringly but only succeeded in grimacing. He couldn't help it. Every second Canada drove them closer to their destination— the doctor's office— the worse America felt. His stomach twisted itself into knots, his hands trembled, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He tried to busy himself with the handheld game Japan had retaught him how to play but he couldn't focus on it, panic gripping his throat and making it difficult to breathe.

America kept his distress as quiet as he could, pretending to be hunched over the game and not silently freaking out. He was not a child. He was not afraid to go to the doctor's. Except he  _was_ , and he had no idea why.

"We're here." Canada said abruptly.

America blinked, glancing from the brick building in front of them to the clock. It had been another hour? How? Had he lost track of time that badly? That was a disturbing thought. America forced himself to unlock his belt buckle and placed his hand on the car door handle, pulling it open. He didn't get out.

Pyrrha walked around from the passenger's side, leaning over and peering at him. "Are you okay?"

America forced a smile. "I'm fine." He claimed. "My leg's just asleep. Give me a second."

He wiggled his left leg for emphasis and got out. His stomach knotted itself into a knife-filled mess and he bit his lip to stop himself from wincing. What was wrong with him? He knew this appointment was coming so why was he freaking out like a toddler? It was just a physical exam at a doctor's office. That was all. No need to panic.

They walked into the building. The smell of alcohol and antiseptic struck his nose and America nearly screamed. His entire body locked up and he shivered, gripping his elbows as his breath came in sharp pants. A primal fear prodded frantically at his waking mind and when he blinked, suddenly they were sitting in chairs in the waiting room. Canada, Pyrrha, and the receptionist behind the counter— Oh wow he didn't even notice her hahahaha. He was so unobservant.— were watching him worriedly.

"Al? Did you hear me?" Mattie asked.

"H-Huh?" America stammered, voice strangely high-pitched and breathy.

Canada exchanged a glance with Pyrrha and stood up. "Maybe we should reschedule—"

"N-No. I'm good." Alfred blurted. "Just— uh. Just daydreaming like usual, haha."

He glanced around the empty waiting room as his stomach did somersaults while simultaneously attempted to exit his body through his throat. America focused on breathing, tensing whenever he heard footsteps pass by the door leading to the examination rooms. There was no one else here which meant he and Mattie were next. That was  _bad_ — good. He wasn't sure how long he could sit there without passing out. Not that he would pass out because he was fine he wasn't panicking not in the slightest bit.

"—Jones?"

America jumped, frightened eyes landing on the open door. A lab coat-wearing man stood there, a stethoscope around his neck and a welcoming smile on his face. The doctor looked nice enough. Looks could be deceiving. America silently followed the doctor into a room, belatedly noticing that while Mattie was there, Pyrrha was not. He poked his head out the door and saw the champion standing there, leaning against the wall. She nodded at him.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate me being in there with you." She commented.

Her presence unwound some of the knots in his stomach. If anything happened she'd help. "Thanks."

"Come on, Al." Mattie chided behind him.

America reluctantly shut the door and turned back to the doctor. The examination room was nice. It had a scale, a ruler for height, a couple chairs for guests, and a physical exam seat with one of those little fake pillows on it. And there was a cute picture of a tiny kitten on the wall. How adorable.

America forced his gaze away from the kitten and to the doctor. The man was of average height and on the older side, looking to be in his early fifties with graying black hair and kind brown eyes. He wasn't mousy, but he was far from intimidating, giving off a calming, friendly vibe America could not believe was real.

"Al, meet— well, re-meet Doctor Frederick Hurt." Canada introduced him. "He's been one of our physicians for years."

"Hello, Alfred. It's nice to see you again." The doctor said.

America swallowed and shook the offered hand. "Doctor Hurt? That's  _really_  your name?" he had to ask.

The doctor chuckled. "I'm afraid so. Trust me, I've heard all the jokes."

"Any from me?" America questioned.

"More than I can count." Doctor Hurt said dryly.

America chuckled. It came out a bit strangled but that was fine  _he was fine_. The doctor's brow furrowed and he exchanged a look with Canada. America read it clearly— Poor Alfred is scared and needs to be coddled— and fought the urge to kick his brother in the shin. He was  _fine_  dammit.

"How about I examine Matthew first? Just so you know what to expect." the doctor offered.

"Mmhmm." America grunted.

He sat heavily in one of the extra chairs and observed carefully as his brother stripped to his boxers, pulled on a gown, and sat on the examination table. Doctor Hurt went through the physical, taking Canada's temperature, blood pressure, weight, and other vitals. America watched it all with bated breath, prepared to intervene if the doctor…

If he…

If he did  _something_.

Soon enough, Doctor Hurt consulted his clipboard. "Your body temperature is low and you've lost a little weight. Nothing drastic, but as a nation you may want to keep an eye on that."

"It was because of my environment, not my nationhood." Canada assured him. "I'm gaining the weight back."

The doctor smiled. "Good. You're also behind on your injections."

Canada winced. "Maple."

America's stomach dropped. He licked dry lips. "Nations need injections?"

Matthew grimaced as he pulled the sleeve of his gown aside. "Afraid so. We tend to get sick if a bunch of our citizens do. Trust me, you'll want the shot."

America gripped the arms of the chair tightly, struggling not to break them. "Great."

He focused on the cute picture of the kitten on the wall for the rest of Mattie's physical, only looking away when his brother grabbed his red sweatshirt and pulled it on. Doctor Hurt removed his gloves, pulling on a new pair with a snap.

"Your turn, Alfred." he said warmly.

"Yay." America said faintly.

He sat gingerly on the examination table, wiggling his bare foot. Doctor Hurt reached into a drawer and America tensed, relaxing when he pulled out another cover for the thermometer. The doctor stuck it under his tongue and Alfred winced when it accidentally jabbed his sensitive frenulum. His temperature came out normal and they moved on to blood pressure and heart beat.

Doctor Hurt paused. "Alfred, can you breathe with me?"

"Sure." America forced out.

The doctor remained calm, raising his hand and lowering it slowly. "In… two… three… And out… two… three…"

America's breathing slowed, and it was only then that he realized how unnaturally quick it had been. His head cleared and the dizziness he did not notice was replaced by embarrassment. His cheeks reddened and he averted his gaze.

_I could have passed out._

"Are you dizzy?" Doctor Hurt asked.

America shook his head. "No. I'm good."

The examination continued. Doctor Hurt paused when he looked at America's eyepatch. "Is there an injury here I should know about?"

"No." America said shortly.

The doctor let the subject pass and America was asked to lay down. He did so and clenched his fists as the doctor untied the gown. Cool fingers prodded his abdomen, checking for abnormalities, and America flinched.

"Sorry." He wheezed, unable to draw in enough air as his throat constricted.

Doctor Hurt pulled his hands away. "Would you like some water?"

"No thanks." America said. "It's fine. I-I don't know why I'm so jumpy."

The cold hands returned and America's throat tightened in a way he recognized as a sign that heralded he was about to cry. The mortification at such a thought kept him in control and he suffered through the prodding in silence. If the doctor noticed he did not comment. Nor did Mattie, though his brother did stare at him with those stupidly pitying violet eyes of his.

Doctor Hurt moved away and America did a mental list of the physical, checking each step off. He realized what was next and inhaled sharply.

Canada tensed. "Al—"

"I'm not going to look, okay? Just do it. Don't warn me or anything." America said, trying to pretend he wasn't begging.

"Alright." Doctor Hurt agreed.

America stared at the kitten picture. He would not look away. Not for a second. He could hear the clinking and shuffling just fine. He didn't need to look. Not at the doctor, not at Mattie, not at anything.

_Don't look._

_Don't look._

_Don't look._

America's resolve failed and he looked.

He saw the doctor approaching with a syringe.

_When the soldiers came for them again, America was dully unsurprised. One thing he could appreciate about their captors was they followed a strict schedule like the military bastards they were. He gritted his teeth and allowed himself to be handcuffed, blindfolded, and led out of the room without the slightest bit of resistance. Any struggle would only get him a shot full of drugs, something that had been hammered into his head— or, more accurately, jabbed into his neck or arm— repeatedly for the past few weeks. Was it weeks? Or months? It was impossible to say how long the twins had been here._

_Honestly, resisting was pointless and only caused him— and sometimes Mattie if they were feeling vindictive— unnecessary pain. Needless to say, America was learning caution and patience. He fell into his new routine, keeping track of his surroundings, Canada, and the soldiers that guided them._

_The first sign of trouble showed itself when the normal one hundred twenty-four steps to the Grimm-fighting room extended to one hundred seventy-six. They were being led somewhere new._

_The second sign of trouble came when Canada gasped, his footsteps vanishing after the thud of a shutting door._

_America yanked himself free of the soldiers' grasps. His heel slammed into one's chest and the soldier screamed, the crunch of a cracking rib accompanying his cry. Air moved to his left and America dodged the second soldier, kicking him in the jaw, and he heard the man crumple. He snapped the cuffs and grasped the blindfold, only for a third soldier to slam into his back._

_America stumbled and felt the familiar prick of a needle in his neck, piercing his Aura like it wasn't even there. He cursed mentally as his muscles went lax, becoming heavy and unresponsive, and after wavering, he crumpled to the ground._

" _Gods damn it." He heard the third soldier hiss. There was the crackle of a communicator. "Two men down. Send medics. Subject A got loose again. He's been subdued." A foot connected with America's side but he could not move enough to flinch. The soldier kicked him once more for good measure. "You'll get what's coming to you, you piece of shit."_

_America's tongue was too thick to attempt to respond, sitting heavily in his mouth like bundled cloth and almost choking him. Hands grabbed his arms and he was dragged to their destination. His chin dipped to his chest, his head too heavy to hold up._

_He heard footsteps and a curse. "I told you_ _**not** _ _to drug him!"_

_America recognized the nasally tones of one of the scientists. Specifically, it was one of the… not-so nice ones. His stomach curdled and right then he was thankful his paralysis kept his apprehension off his face._

" _He resisted, sir. Took out two of his guards." The soldier grunted unapologetically._

_The scientist huffed. "I suppose it won't matter. In fact, it might make things easier. Bring him here."_

_America's feet slid along the floor behind him and the soldiers lifted him, placing him on a cold surface. Metal? His handcuffs clicked open only for new manacles to slide shut around his wrists, ankles, and neck, keeping his arms at his sides. Someone ripped the blindfold away, sending his glasses clattering to the tile floor. America blinked hazily, eyes darting left and right as he took in his surroundings. Terror clogged his throat._

_He was on an_ _**operating table** _ _. A lamp was above him, shining its light into his face. A tray full of tools sat innocently beside him on a metal cart. The setup was hauntingly mundane and wouldn't look out of place at a normal doctor's office, but America knew_ _**exactly** _ _what was coming. Panic gripped his throat, but a gloved hand clamped over his mouth before he could scream._

" _I suggest you remain silent." The scientist remarked. "These walls aren't the most soundproof in the world, and I don't think you want to scare your dear brother just yet."_

_America followed his gaze and saw a window on one wall, giving him a clear view of the next room. A pale-faced Canada sat in a chair, chest heaving as the comparatively kindly doctor attached wires to him. His quivering hands laid atop the chair arms, kept there by manacles much like America's own, and suction cup-like devices were connected to his exposed flesh. To America's relief, none of the wires pierced his brother's skin. Machines tracked his rapid heartbeat while another displayed an image of what appeared to be his brain. Sections of the picture flashed with bright neon colors to indicate activity._

_Violet eyes scanned the window, and the lack of horror on Canada's face told America that the glass was one-way. Mattie couldn't see the other room. America held his breath and could just hear muffled voices from the other side._

"— _calm down, Canada." said the doctor. "The restraints are merely a precaution. We only wish to track your heartbeat and other vitals. There's no scalpels here, see?"_

_America's gaze unwillingly went to the scalpels and saws sitting on a tray beside him. A shudder went through him and he pulled at the manacles around his wrists. The scientist pressed something and electricity ripped through America. Again and again it crackled to life and he writhed in silence, determined not to let his brother hear his pain. The electrical administrations continued until his Aura depleted with a blue flicker and he slumped on the table, as silent as a grave._

_The scientist nodded approvingly. "You. Give him another dose of the paralytic."_

_America could not move enough to resist as the soldier pushed his head, exposing his neck. Another scientist jabbed the syringe into his flesh, expunging its icy contents into his bloodstream. America lost what little movement he had regained except his eyes, which blinked lethargically as they roamed from person to person. The assistant scientist ignored him, while the soldier smirked, and it was then he realized, no, these men were not people. They were_ _**monsters** _ _._

" _Gag him." The scientist ordered his assistant. "I don't want Subject C hearing him too early."_

" _Yes sir." The assistant said._

_Something was shoved into America's mouth, pressing down on his already useless tongue. His gorge rose in protest at the presence of the foreign object and he gagged, but forced his heaving chest into stillness as the scientist approached, scalpel in hand. His Atlas-issued white t-shirt and cargo pants were cut away, leaving him only in boxers, and he shivered as his skin pressed against the cold metal of the table._

_At least the scientist was quick about it, removing the garments efficiently and without unnerving glee or pleasure. Though when America spotted the look in the man's eyes, that scientific detachment may be worse than lingering touches. It was easy to see America was not a human being to this man. Not in the slightest._

" _I'd just like you to answer a few questions." The doctor in the next room said benignly to Canada. "The more we know, the less we'll have to test."_

Liar. _America thought._ Liar liar liarliar _ **liar**_ —

" _Okay." His blissfully oblivious brother agreed after a pause._

_America's breathing stuttered but there were no machines attached to him to beep warnings. That was precisely the point, and he knew it. Oh, how he_ _**knew** _ _what they were going to do. He stared through the window, begging Canada to see past their captors' tricks, but his brother did not receive his warning. Instead the scientist leaned in front of Alfred, blocking his view of his twin._

" _We already know you recover faster than the other one." Cold grey eyes met America's and glinted. "Unless we are mistaken and someone else should be our subject?"_

_America might as well have been trying to lift the entire world for all the energy it took to shake his head 'no'. He made the effort despite the struggle. He_ _**had** _ _to respond because there was no way in hell he was giving them an excuse to disse— to hurt Canada. The relief that it was him strapped to a table and not his brother did little to help calm his frantically pounding heart, however, and the scientist chuckled at the fear shining in his eyes._

" _Good. We are aware your kind is immortal." He grinned like a cat about to tear apart a mouse with its claws. "Let's test for some exact numbers for the rate of your regeneration, shall we?"_

_He reached for a scalpel and America shut his eyes, trying to focus on Canada's voice._

" _W-Well, the speed of our regeneration depends on a few things, you see."_

" _One-half inch laceration, right forearm." The scientist said. "Prepare timer. Start."_

" _It's mostly affected by the situation, our country's strength, and how the circumstances surrounding the injury affect us psychologically." Canada said._

" _Stop. Regeneration time: One hundred milliseconds. Three-inch laceration, right forearm. Prepare timer. Start."_

" _For example, if my friend accidentally pushed me down the stairs and I broke my leg, it would take a while to heal. If an enemy pushed me down the stairs with the same resulting injury, it wouldn't take as long to mend. But if someone I thought I could trust betrayed me and pushed me, breaking my leg, it would probably take the longest time for the injury to heal. Oh, and poisons like cyanide tend to keep us unconscious for a while. Our bodies have more trouble expelling poison than healing wounds."_

" _Stop. Regeneration time: four hundred-fifty milliseconds. Five-inch laceration, left upper thigh. Prepare timer. Start."_

" _So mental state and adrenaline could be factors?" The doctor commented._

" _Maybe. We haven't really tested it, sir." Canada said, as polite as always despite the fact these monsters didn't deserve it not in the slightest not when nononononoithurts_ _ **pleaseno**_ _—_

" _Femoral artery nicked. No pressure applied."_

" _Sir—"_

" _I said,_ _ **no pressure applied**_ _."_

" _What about mortal wounds?" the doctor asked._

" _If our nation isn't on the brink of collapse, we'll likely go into a coma until we heal." Canada replied._

" _Stop. Accidental femoral hemorrhage regeneration: forty-five point three seconds. Proceeding with abdominal evisceration."_

_Fingers prodded at America's abdomen before cold metal pierced his skin—_

" _Fascinating." The doctor in the next room said, pleasant and grandfatherly even though he had to know what his comrades were doing. "Is there anything else?"_

" _Subject has yet to regenerate."_

_Tears dripped down America's temples._

" _I don't think so." Canada said, his voice faint and far away._

_Alfred wondered if his brother had been moved. He dare not open his eyes to look, knowing exactly what else he would see._

" _Good. That is all the questions I have for now." The 'kindly' doctor said. His voice shook. "The window, please."_

" _What?" Mattie asked. "What are…?"_

_The silence stretched for an eternity, but America focused on the sounds that weren't there, ignoring the burning-burning-_ _**burning—** _

_Canada_ _**screamed** _ _. "Stop! Stop it! What the hell are you_ _**DOING?!** _ _"_

" _Subject C's heartrate has increased to 193 beats per minute. Respiration has increased as well by fifty-three percent." Someone's muffled voice commented. "Subject may fall unconscious or suffer a heart attack—"_

" _No! Leave him alone!" Canada cried, covering whatever else the man was going to say. "_ _ **STOP IT!**_ _"_

_The sounds of Canada pulling against his bonds and his desperate cries tore through America's heart just like the scalpel tore through his flesh. Alfred's eyelids fluttered but upon catching a glimpse of red, he let them slide safely closed. With his eyes shut, he could pretend nothing was wrong, that he was fine, that the agony ripping through his stomach wasn't because he had been sliced open from ribcage to pelvis—_

_The pain lancing through America's gut dulled and a familiar coldness replaced it. He did not fight the pull, instead embracing it with open arms and sending a faint prayer that they would leave his brother alone during his absence._

_Mattie was still screaming when America mercifully passed out._

America snapped back into his body and backed away from the lab coat-wearing man in front of him.

"Stay away!" he screamed.

His hand met empty air and he fell off the operating table he'd been sitting on, crashing to the cold, hard ground. Canada appeared in front of him— How did he get free?— and America launched himself at his brother. He grabbed his twin and yanked him behind him, placing himself between Mattie and the doctor as he backed them up against the relative security of the wall.

Canada yelped in pain and America silently apologized to his brother, but surely he'd prefer a small bump to being vivisected again. Alfred finally noticed the flimsy gown he was wearing— the ties undone and exposing his front— and swallowed a hysterical whimper. How close had the doctor been to cutting him open again?

The door crashed open and a red-haired girl ran through, green eyes hard and alert as she scanned the room. But how was Pyrrha in Atlas—?

Memory struck and America sank to the floor. Shame rushed through him, not nearly enough to quell the terror and guilt and he put his head in his hands, unable to look at any of them.

"I'm sorry— I remembered being— Sorry— I didn't—" he hiccupped.

He shut up in a feeble attempt to hide his  _stupid_  overreactions. Mattie went through the same thing America did but he was being calm and mature about it. Canada didn't panic because of the sterile smell of the office. Canada wasn't hysterical because of a physical exam. Canada wasn't acting like a child because of a little  _shot_. America was supposed to be the brave one yet here he was sitting on the floor and trying not to cry.

He registered soft voices and recognized Doctor Hurt's low tones.

"—trigger such a reaction?"

"He's been recovering memories but we thought he'd be okay." Canada whispered back, voice heavy with guilt. "We didn't know this would make him remember…  _that_."

"I think both of you need to see David." Doctor Hurt murmured.

"We're planning on it." Canada promised.

America peeked out from over his arms and saw Pyrrha sitting on the floor beside him. Her hand twitched but she refrained from touching him. "Do you need anything?" she asked.

America barely registered her question, thoughts ruthlessly overcome by his latest memory. "They cut me up." He wheezed. "They drugged me and electrocuted me and cut me up."

Pyrrha's skin went ashen.

America hid his face again. "Sorry." He whispered. "Being stupid— They had to test— It was necessary. They were just trying to save Vale—"

" _Stop it_." Pyrrha choked and America flinched, startled into looking back at her. Her skin was still pale but her green eyes burned. "Don't defend them. They had no right to do that to you, Alfred."

America hid his face again. He wished that would also hide how pathetic he was acting.

"You're not pathetic." Canada said, and America was horrified to realize he had spoken out loud. His brother crouched on his other side, hand outstretched but not touching him. "Al, the only reason I'm not freaking out is because you're here."

"What do you mean?" America asked hesitantly.

Canada smiled thinly. "It's strange. I was nervous myself but when I saw you were having trouble I calmed down. I knew you needed me to be calm so I somehow kept calm. It's like a parent that has arachnophobia staying calm and killing a spider that's frightening their kid."

America's lips twitched. "When did you become a parent?"

"Never." Canada admitted. "But I  _am_  your older brother."

"Only by three days." America joked.

Canada smiled and hugged him. "How about we get out of here?"

America gulped and shook his head. "No. I can do the shot. I'd have to get it later anyway. I'd rather have it done now."

"Okay." Canada agreed gently.

America avoided looking at Doctor Hurt as he sat back on the examination table. His humiliation and panic stewed in his stomach but at least he wasn't quivering or hyperventilating anymore. He managed to not look this time and exhaled when prompted, grimacing at the small prick on his arm.

No ice shot into his veins, and he retained control of his body. He wasn't paralyzed and helpless, unable to do anything as scientists loomed over him. It was no big deal, in hindsight, which made his terror all the worse and more humiliating. Doctor Hurt put a band aid over the tiny hole and briefly touched America's arm.

"Don't feel ashamed, Alfred. You've gone through something I cannot begin to fathom. There is no shame in responding to it the way you are."

"Got any advice for me, doc?" America asked faintly.

"This isn't my area of expertise. I'm a physical doctor, not a psychological one. But… I suppose I have one thing to say: Allow yourself time to heal." With that, Doctor Hurt patted his forearm once and gathered his clipboard, nodding to the three of them. "Have a good day, all of you."

He walked out, leaving the three alone. America tore the flimsy gown off and pulled his clothes back on, ignoring the slight ache in his arm. He was pulling on his coat when he remembered Pyrrha was there and paused.

"Sorry you had to see that." He mumbled.

"It is fine." She assured him. Her profile shifted as she adopted a stubborn set to her jaw. "You won't scare me away."

Her words made his chest warm and he beamed at her. "Thanks Py-Py." He glanced at Canada hopefully. "Can we go get ice cream? That's what the families in the movies do after an appointment."

"Of course they do." Canada rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You'll use any excuse."

He could have made a comment about how only 'good' or 'brave' children were taken out for ice cream but he didn't. America appreciated that. The burning shame at his panic was still there, ready to sprout again, but he held it back and grinned.

"Thanks, Mattie. You're buying."

"Wonderful." Canada said dryly. "That means you're getting a small cone."

"But Mattie—" America mock-whined.

"No buts." Canada growled. "I'm not made of money."

America shot him a disbelieving look. "Bro, you're well-off. Like, really well-off. You're just being a cheapskate."

"Am not!" Canada protested.

"Are too." America crowed. "Watch; as soon as you find out they have maple soft serve you'll buy the biggest size they have."

Canada opened his mouth, paused, and sulked. "…Maybe."

"He will." Pyrrha confirmed, eyes twinkling.

America chuckled. "Thought so."

After making sure they were not leaving anything behind, they exited the room. America waved goodbye to the receptionist, grin firmly in place.

He didn't relax until they were out of the sterile office and in the open air.


	14. Abandoned

Canada sat at the round, plastic table at the ice cream stand, licking maple soft serve before it could drip onto his hand and ignoring his brother's amused looks. So what if he'd gotten the largest size they had just like America predicted? Maple ice cream was the best. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass by. Nor was he going to waste perfectly good ice cream by shoving it in America's stupid, smirking face. The idiot would probably take a bite out of it anyway.

Alfred happily ate a bright blue ice cream that he claimed tasted like marshmallows and Fruit Loops. That was a weird-sounding flavor but he seemed to enjoy it so Canada would sit back and laugh when he inevitably got it on his face. Pyrrha had settled for a simple vanilla cone, but America had convinced her to try to try cheery dip. The champion ate her bright red ice cream thoughtfully, a small smile on her face. Somehow she managed to avoid turning her lips, teeth, and tongue red, and Canada had to wonder if she had a second Semblance or something. Or maybe she was magical.

America shoved the remainder of his cone into his mouth and looked hopefully at Canada.

"No, you're not getting another one." Matthew said.

Alfred's blue eye dropped to Canada's cone. The violet-eyed twin held it defensively closer to him, his other hand raised and ready to smack his brother away. America smiled 'innocently' but leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and stretching. His exposed blue eye narrowed and focused on something past Canada's shoulder. He covered his mouth with his hand and sniggered.

"Guard your cone with your life, Mattie." America chuckled. "Someone else wants it."

He nodded past Canada and the nation turned his head to see a little girl standing on the sidewalk and looking at him. Specifically, the tiny child— who couldn't be more than three— eyed the half-eaten cone in his hand. Matthew turned away and tried not to feel guilty as he ate the last bite. It was cold going down, the chill settling around his heart and he shivered, brushing it off as echoes of remorse. If the girl wanted ice cream, she could ask her parents. This was  _his_ ice cream dammit.

America kept looking past him at the girl. He frowned. "Hey, am I seeing things or is she alone?" he commented. "Where are her parents?"

Canada did a double take and saw there was indeed no adult with the child. The few that were out on the street barely gave the girl a second glance, presumably assuming she was with someone else. Suspicion settled in Canada's gut and Pyrrha's green eyes narrowed. America made to get out of his seat but Matthew grabbed his arm.

"Wait." He said.

Perhaps drawn in by their attention, the little girl wandered over to them, weaving between the tables. Her blonde pigtails bounced with every step, and her sneakers lit up with colorful pink lights. She halted in front of America and Matthew clearly saw her bright, mismatched brown and blue eyes. She raised her arms above her head in the universal demand to be carried.

"Up!"

America smiled and knelt so he was eye level to her. "Sorry, little princess, but I don't think your mommy would want strangers picking you up."

The little girl pouted but lowered her arms. "Not a stranger." She insisted. "Up?"

America shook his head. "No, sweetie. Where's your mommy?"

The girl's head tipped thoughtfully, reminding Canada of a puppy. "Uhhhhhh…"

The kid did not look particularly bothered by her inability to locate her parental unit, but Canada's stomach twisted.

"How about you sit right here while Matthew tries to find her, okay?" Pyrrha said once it was obvious the girl truly didn't know where 'Mommy' was.

"Okay." The girl agreed. She clambered into the plastic chair and her feet swung in the open air. "Ice cream?"

"You can ask your mommy once we find her." America assured her. He glanced at the backpack the girl wore. "Is this Hello Kitty?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically and showed him the backpack and its contents to much ooo-ing and ahh-ing. Canada took the opportunity to go to the ice cream stand and ask the woman working there if he had seen anything. He didn't want to call the police if the girl's parents were simply shopping in one of the stores nearby and had accidentally misplaced their child. They should be watching her more carefully, but this kind of thing did happen and he didn't want to cause them any trouble.

The woman hadn't seen anything but exited the stand to join their little group where the little girl was showing an attentive America her dolls. Pyrrha smiled and nodded along but Canada could tell she was scanning the area warily.

Pushing away his instincts that screamed for him to stay with America, Canada and the ice cream shop owner went into a few of the nearby stores, asking if anyone had seen the girl's parents. Coming up with nothing, they reluctantly returned with no news. The girl had stood on her seat and was currently poking at America's eyepatch to the nation's amusement. Canada was not so easily humored and watched the interaction warily.

"Why do you have an eyepatch and glasses?" the girl asked.

"Because the glasses make me look cool and I need to cover this eye for a little while." America explained patiently.

"Why?"

"Because I got a booboo and my big brother said I need to."

"Why?"

"Because he thinks my eye is icky."

"Why?"

"Because he's a meanie sometimes."

"Why?"

Canada tuned out the endless 'whys' and dragged a hand over his face. "We couldn't find her parents. I think we need to call the police."

Pyrrha and the ice cream shop owner looked as happy about that as he did, but the woman retreated slightly and called the cops, explaining the situation in a soft voice. America looked away from the girl— who was happily playing with a stuffed animal— and leaned over to Canada.

"You don't think Molly was just…  _left_  there, do you?" he asked tightly.

Matthew could only shrug helplessly. America's face crumpled but he put a smile on when the girl— Molly— looked at him. The police arrived five minutes later and the female officer approached first, kneeling down and smiling at the girl.

"Hi, Molly. I'm Officer Rodriguez."

Molly climbed out of her chair and scrambled into a startled America's lap, hiding her face in his shirt. The nation blinked at her in bewilderment before looking at the officer and shrugging. The woman kept her friendly smile.

"I think she likes you better than me. Could you ask her some questions? We need to figure out who her family is."

"Okay." America agreed, glancing briefly at the officer's partner as he approached. "Hey, Molly." The girl peered up at him. "Do you know where your house is?"

"Nuh-uh." Molly said.

"Do you know Mommy or Daddy's names?" America asked patiently. "The names other adults call them?"

"Mommy calls daddy 'Thomas Jackson Brown' when she's mad." Molly said solemnly. "Daddy calls mommy 'Hever'."

America squinted. "'Heather'?" he guessed.

Molly nodded and hid her face in his jacket. The police officers murmured to each other and the man retreated, speaking into his radio. Officer Rodriguez took out a notebook and requested the adults give an account of how they found Molly. The girl clung to America— much to a majority of the adults' confusion— but Canada understood completely. Molly recognized she was safe with him, and the other Americans subconsciously recognized that as well, so they let her stay in the "teenager's" arms.

Pyrrha mostly stayed out of the conversation, posture relaxed, but Canada could see her keeping an eye out for trouble. He could only hope the police did not notice and begin asking questions.

"Sir?" Officer Rodriguez asked, looking at Canada.

Matthew blinked, surprised at being addressed, but nodded at the officer. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Are you military?" she asked.

Canada considered his own movements and realized he had been doing the same thing as Pyrrha but a  _lot_  less subtly. Apparently he was having trouble remembering enemies  _weren't_  about to leap out of the shadows at them. He hoped they weren't, anyway. "Yes, ma'am. Canadian."

"Ah." Officer Rodriguez said nothing more on the subject.

Her partner came back. "Got some chatter from security. Found the mother. Apparently Molly wandered over here from a boutique on Fifth."

"Oh thank God." America breathed.

The officer smiled thinly. "She's on her way." He leaned over so he was eye level with Molly. "She was very worried about you, sweetie."

Molly hid her face.

A harried-looking woman with blonde hair pulled up a few minutes later, accompanied by a security guard. She ran over to Molly, who beamed and climbed out of America's lap and wandered over to her.

"Mommy!"

The woman swept up her daughter, hugging her tightly. "Molly, what did I tell you about staying with Mommy?"

"Want ice cream." The little girl insisted.

"You're not getting it." The mother said sternly. "You scared Mommy very much, honey."

"Sorry." Molly mumbled.

"Thank you for watching her." the mother said, looking to the incognito nations and Pyrrha.

"No problem." America said with a grin. "I'm glad everything turned out okay."

His tone had the slightest shaky edge of someone who had been close to crying, only for the reason for their tears to no longer be an issue. Canada knew his brother well enough to identify that fragile strain, but luckily the humans did not. After a few more questions, clean up, and tearful thanks, the mother and daughter, police, security officer, and stand owner departed, leaving the three alone once more. As soon as the ice cream stand owner vanished back into her shop, America slumped in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh.

"Are you okay?" Pyrrha asked.

"Fine. Just relieved." He said shortly. A trembling hand reached up and rubbed at the area under his eyepatch. "I thought they abandoned her, you know?" he said shakily. "I feel bad for that now."

Canada could think of a few reasons why America was so shaken up by the situation, and only a couple had to do with a small child being in a busy town by herself. Unsure of how to respond to that, Canada squeezed his brother's shoulder briefly. "We should probably go. The others will be waiting for us."

America took a breath and nodded. "Okay." He smiled. "I have to tell Kiku about this. It seems that no matter where I go, I have to be the Hero."

Canada snorted. "Right."

America smirked and sauntered over to the car. Canada and Pyrrha followed at a slower pace, watching him climb into the back seat. Matthew leaned close to the champion's ear.

"You expected it to be a trap too, didn't you?" Canada whispered.

She nodded once, sharply, and her green eyes  _never_  stopped moving. A shiver went up Canada's spine but when he looked around, there was no threat. No danger. They were  _not_  on Remnant anymore.

They quickly got into the car and drove off.

XXXXXXX

An unfamiliar car sat innocently in the driveway. It was a blue sedan, obviously a rental, and it sat unobtrusively next to the car Japan and the others had arrived in. America stared at the new addition for a long time before planting his forehead on the back of Pyrrha's seat.

" _Whhhhyyyyyyyyyy_ …"

"Al, you knew they were coming." Canada said unsympathetically.

"I haven't even gotten to know the others yet!" he whimpered.

"And whose fault is that?" Canada challenged.

America's stomach rolled. "…I can't do this."

His brother noticed his breathy tone and his exasperated expression became a concerned one. "Al, I don't understand why you can't just  _get to know_  these people. They're your friends."

" _Are you happy to know about your past now, Blue?"_ _ **Whack**_ _. "We_ _ **aren't**_ _your friends."_ _ **Thud.**_ _"We don't give a single damn about you."_ _ **Smack.**_ _"You were just_ _ **leverage**_ _, a_ _ **bargaining chip**_ _in case our enemies caught up to us."_ _ **Thud.**_ _"And_ _ **nothing**_ _more!"_ _ **Crunch.**_

" _You really are a naïve little idiot. Don't you understand, Blue?" Roman asked, almost sounding kind. "We already told you that you're a_ _ **bargaining chip**_ _. And not just for us. There's a reason we wanted to use you." He leaned over, whispering in Alfred's ear. "_ _ **You have no friends**_ _. You don't even have any allies or family. All you are is a little_ _ **prize**_ _everyone wants to get to use for their own ends."_

America shook his head, squeezing the car seat below him. "You keep acting like it's easy but it's just  _not_ , okay? I'm not a social butterfly like I used to be."

"More like you have trust issues bigger than the moon." Canada muttered.

Hurt lanced through America's chest. Anger was quick to swallow it. " _Fuck you_." he snapped.

His brother recoiled and America's anger snuffed out.

"Sorry." Alfred mumbled.

"No,  _I'm_  sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Matthew apologized.

"It's true though." America muttered bitterly. He covered his ears when Canada opened his mouth. "Not. Talking. About it."

They were both looking at him pityingly now. America squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed in concentration.

"What are you doing?" Canada asked.

"Trying to teleport to my room." America muttered.  _Like Neo could— Shit, not now._  He reached out and grabbed Pyrrha's hand, grounding himself in the present. "Py-Py, lend me your power."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I don't think that will help."

"Then use a garbage can lid to fly me upstairs. I'll go through the window." America cajoled.

Pyrrha shook her head but paused thoughtfully. "I've never considered using my Semblance like that before…"

America grinned. "Dude, you should totally try it!"

"Later. After America greets his new guests." Canada commanded gently.

Movement caught America's eye and he idly watched smoke waft from an open window.

"My guests just set my house on fire." America said flatly.

Canada was already out of the car and running to the kitchen. America sighed and followed him at a slower pace, Pyrrha at his side. Maybe if the mansion burned down he wouldn't have to live with so many strangers. He kept his unease under wraps and slowly made it to the kitchen, waving idly to Australia as he went to investigate the carnage.

The kitchen was in chaos. China and a brown-haired man— Romano?— were arguing, France looked ready to strangle Italy, Japan and a blond-haired nation—Germany?— were covered in flour, the white-haired nation— most definitely Prussia— was laid out on the floor, and Russia stood in the corner, cackling madly. Red stuff dripped from the ceiling and after a moment of pure horror America recognized it as pasta sauce.

Some type of batter was sprayed on the walls and cabinet along with the before-mentioned flour, with the only clear spot around Russia. If America did not know any better, he would swear the nation scared the mess away from him with pure intimidation. The thing that was smoking was revealed to be something in a pot on the stovetop. Since everyone else was standing around frozen like idiotic statues, America shoved his way past Canada and grabbed the pot, putting out the fire with a wave of his hand before dousing its contents in the sink for good measure.

"Hey!" Prussia protested.

America glared at him, slamming the no-longer-on-fire pot back onto the counter and yanking his eyepatch down so it hung around his neck. "What the  _hell_  are you doing?" he growled, eyes glowing green.

Italy shrieked and hid behind Germany. " _Aaaaaah!_  America's angry!"

"Stop scaring my brother, hamburger bastard!" Romano snarled.

America glowered at him and he turned bone-white, pressing himself against the counter and smearing batter and flour down his back. America took pity on him and made sure to glare at  _every single person_  responsible for the mess. Some flinched, others avoided his eyes, and Russia smiled happily. America scoffed.

"Seriously, did a  _war_  take place in here?" he demanded.

"Pretty much." He swore France muttered under his breath. "We were attempting to cook and got in each other's way." The Frenchman admitted when America's eyes landed on him.

"I was trying to make you some pasta!" Italy said brightly, poking his head out from his hiding place— aka Germany. His apparent fear of America forgotten, he ran up to the nation and held a plate of noodles in his face. "Here, try it."

Before America could respond, China shoved Italy aside. "No, America. Try this. It's Kung Pao chicken, aru. Very good."

France knocked China away. "No, try my dish."

"You already ruined mine and West's." Prussia complained loudly, gesturing at the soggy pot.

America felt a headache coming on. Slowly, he understood what had happened while he was away. He put a hand to his poor, aching head. "…Are all of you trying to get on my good side with food?" America asked lowly.

The nations exchanged sheepish glances.

"We just want you to be comfortable around us again!" Italy explained happily. "France said you were really scared of them and uncomfortable and said having more of us around might make things worse. We just want you to know we're friendly and won't hurt you and—"

Germany covered his mouth, making him shriek.

Romano instantly lunged for the tall blond-haired nation. "Let my brother go, potato bastard!"

His heroic dive died a humiliating death when he slipped on some pasta sauce, slamming into France and sending them both to the ground. The Frenchman landed in some batter and gave a horrified wail as it got into his hair. China held his bowl of rice as high as he could to avoid the mess, eyes wild.

"Brats! If you ruin this I'll bring out my tonfa, aru."

"No, not the tonfa. They're worse than the wok and ladle!" Italy cried.

In his attempt to put some distance between himself and China, he accidentally tripped Japan, who fell into Germany, who took down Prussia in his attempt to save himself. America, Pyrrha, and Canada watched the domino effect in stunned silence while Russia continued to laugh, successfully avoiding the mayhem.

Behind them— and safely out the door— Australia sighed loudly. "And they say  _I'm_  the crazy one."

He threw up his hands and walked away while the nations floundered. China extracted himself from the mess with his food intact and handed it to America. Alfred looked from the dish to the chaos and back again. His lips twitched and he snorted. The nations stared at him like startled deer and his control broke. He set China's food down and burst out laughing, leaning over helplessly as his shoulders shook and his stomach ached.

"Dudes! How did you  _do_  this? You're thousands of years old. What the hell?" He descended into giggles. "Pyrrha, take pictures, quick!"

The champion already had her phone out, a smile playing at her lips.

France hid his face with his hands, cheeks red. " _Non_! Don't save evidence of my shame!"

"Too late." America said cheerfully. He picked up China's offering of Kung Pao chicken and noticed the ancient nation had slipped away, presumably to clean himself up. "Is anything else salvageable?"

"My pasta is." Italy said happily.

"And my pizza." Romano growled, guarding said pizza and daring anyone to go near it.

"So are my dishes." France sniffed.

"And mine." Japan added.

"Cool. We'll have a buffet-like thing and try a little of everything." America decided. He frowned at the meal in the formerly-smoking pot. "Sorry about your food, Prussia."

"It is fine. You will have to try mine and West's awesome cuisine another time." The nation said regally.

"Great. You all are cleaning this up and then we'll eat in the dining room." America smiled 'sweetly'— as in his wide grin showed every one of his teeth— and the nations froze. "Any objections?"

They all shook their heads frantically except Russia, whose smile widened.

"America's still acting scary." Italy whispered to Romano, shivering.

Alfred ignored that and gathered the acceptable meals, passing a few plates to Pyrrha and Matthew. Russia followed them out of the kitchen, carrying what appeared to be a pot of soup.

"This is borsch." He explained when America looked at him. "And I made it without making a mess."

"Thanks. I appreciate it, Russia." America said genuinely.

Russia eyed him curiously. "You are very different, Amerika. I do not know if I like it."

America's smile grew tense. "You aren't the only one." He struggled not to snarl. "I know he likes to keep to himself but why isn't England in the kitchen with the rest of you?"

"England's cooking would cause the house to explode." Russia claimed solemnly.

"He's not wrong…" Canada admitted.

America wanted to feel relieved about his brother's confirmation but he couldn't help but think of other possible reasons for England's unwillingness to join in. He ignored the pained jolt in his chest. "Noted. I  _like_  my house and prefer it to be in one piece, thank you."

"England thought so." Russia said as he set the pot on the table. "He is helping Tony with the barrier."

America relaxed. "Ah. We should probably call them in."

"I'll do it." Canada offered.

He headed in the direction of the lab, leaving America with only Pyrrha and Russia. The champion sniffed the borsch curiously.

"What is this made with?" she asked.

"Beetroot, beef, sour cream, cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, tomatoes and some other ingredients." Russia explained.

"Between this and the other stuff you guys made, am I going to have any food left?" America asked.

"Yes. Your cupboards are well-stocked for someone who never cooks." Russia commented.

"I do too cook!" America protested. He faltered.  _I think…_

Russia frowned. "Uncertainty does not suite you, Amerika."

Alfred scowled at him. "Is that so?" he said through gritted teeth.

Russia looked away first, and America swore he looked  _sad_. "Da."

Thankfully, the others arrived and they settled down to eat. America was seated between Australia and Pyrrha and across from Canada and France. Most importantly, he was far from England— as in he'd have to turn awkwardly and look down his side of the table to even see him— and was silently grateful. He was surprised Canada had convinced the nation to come to dinner. England had been avoiding hi— them all like they were carrying the plague.

_Three guesses as to why. Only one counts_ , America thought, stabbing a potato viciously.

"How are you feeling, Germany, Prussia?" Canada asked once the conversation started dwindling down.

Prussia puffed out his chest. "The awesome me is once again at one hundred percent awesomeness. Not that I was ever less than that, of course."

"We are well." Germany answered in a less…  _exuberant_  way. "It took longer than usual, but our injuries healed completely." He flexed his left hand.

"Your regenerative abilities are amazing." Pyrrha blurted. She turned pink. "Sorry—"

"Do not feel bad for commenting on it." France assured her. "We are used to such injuries and humans' reactions to them."

"I suppose you would be." Pyrrha murmured. She dropped her gaze to her plate.

"Hey, America." When Alfred looked at Prussia, the nation grinned. "West and I were talking, and we thought of a way you might be able to get your memories back. What if you go to a museum?"

America thought of his flashback in the doctor's office and winced. "That's a bad idea."

Prussia pouted at his idea being rejected. "Why? It's not like you'd burn the museum down."

Canada choked on a bite of pizza. France pounded him on the back until he could breathe again. Everyone who had been in Kuroyuri looked away from America, suddenly very interested in the décor, the window, or their meal.

Alfred focused on his food, prodding at a piece of chicken. "…I might."

Prussia blinked, tipping his head curiously.

"I have fire powers. I burned down Kuroyuri because I freaked out." Alfred grunted.

"You were unconscious at the time, Gilbert." France added far too casually.

Prussia glanced at his brother and back to America, red eyes going round when Germany nodded in confirmation. "Ah. No museums then."

"I think we're going to let America's memories return naturally rather than try to force them." Canada said.

Prussia nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table and America hated himself for causing it.

England abruptly cleared his throat. "Could you pass me the spaghetti, Alfred?"

America blinked at the pot in front of him and hesitantly picked it up, leaning around Australia to give it to Russia, who smiled and handed it to England.

The Brit put some pasta on his plate and glared down at it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." America muttered.

China, France, Prussia, Romano, and Italy's renewed chatter prevented the heavy silence from smothering them all, but the nations around America and England all looked between the two brothers uncomfortably. And was he imagining things, or was Pyrrha staring at England rather  _intently_? If she had laser eyes, America was sure England would be burnt to a crisp by now.

"…So I know you and Canada have questions about magic since you can now see Uni." England said to his plate. "I was wondering if you would like to look over some lore with me later. We might be able to find answers."

America gaped at him, his stunned expression slowly morphing into a beaming grin. "I'd love to!"

He cringed briefly at how damn  _happy_  he sounded. He sounded like an insecure child who just got recognition from his parent. America waited for the inevitable sniff or scoff from his older brother, but to his surprise, England smiled tentatively back at him before returning to his meal, posture more relaxed than before.

America glanced at Canada to see his brother beaming at him, one arm secured around Kumajirou's middle as he prevented the bear from climbing onto the table and eating everything. Apparently Mattie was right. England just needed time before approaching him. The man hadn't apologized for his earlier rejections, but America didn't need him to. He just needed his big brother. And Arthur was finally  _here_.

America smiled to himself and happily ate some Kung Pao chicken, spotting China's perked posture and satisfied expression out the corner of his eye. Some of the stress inside him eased. He didn't feel so outnumbered anymore.


	15. Dark Side

"You know, when I said I owed you one I didn't know you would call me so soon." The Atlas Pilot commented.

His slight smile lessened the dryness of his words and Weiss rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She sat in one of the few seats in the cockpit with Yang and Ruby occupying the others, happy to just be with her team at the moment. Qrow, Oscar, and JNP— Jaune, Nora, and Ren were in the cargo hold, with Ren having dragged Nora there after she got in the pilot's space one too many times. The pilot was taking his new situation rather well for a guy who claimed he didn't like to go out of his way for people.

He'd jumped at the chance to repay Weiss for saving his life. She didn't deny his claim that there was a debt to be repaid. Even though she'd saved herself as well, they both knew the pilot would have died if the former heiress hadn't been there to defend the cargo ship. Perhaps that was why he was so willing to take the Huntsmen and Huntresses where they needed to go.

"Sorry if you had something better to do." Weiss said.

"I didn't." the pilot assured her. "And you  _are_  paying me."

"You're the type to follow the money, then?" Yang asked.

"To an extent." The pilot said with a shrug. "I smuggle cargo but that's about. The type of crime you're heading into isn't my type."

"Have you been to Kuchinashi before?" Ruby asked.

The pilot grimaced. "A couple times. I learned enough to know the last thing I should do is try to land in the city." He noticed the worried look they shot each other and continued. "Didn't make any enemies so don't worry about that."

"Then why shouldn't you land in Kuchinashi? I mean, we weren't planning that to begin with but…?" Yang let her question trail off.

"You're the one going in, right?" the pilot said. He raised a hand before they could comment. "I don't know your whole mission, but I know which ones of you are heading into the city and which are sitting around for extraction. I have ears."

He placed his hand back on the controls and sighed. "First rule you need to know about cities like Kuchinashi:  _nobody_  there is helping you out of the goodness of their heart. They give you directions? They want something. They give you a nice deal on a purchase? They want something extra in return. I'd call it swindling but it's a bit more malicious. Long story short, if I landed in the city I'd probably be 'recruited' into one of the gangs to ship their cargo faster than I could say 'oops'."

"They  _force_  people into working for gangs?" Ruby demanded, horrified.

"Of course they do." The pilot said as if it was obvious, and to all of them except Ruby, it was. "I was lucky enough to have a few friends who knew I appreciated flying solo. They warned me and I avoided a few of the pitfalls that would've gotten me caught up in all that. Sold my wares elsewhere where the gangs inside could buy it from their suppliers without ever seeing me."

"Maybe we should take you in with us." Yang murmured.

"Then you'd be down a pilot when things go south." The pilot said steadily.

"Are you former military? You sound like a soldier sometimes." Ruby commented.

"I'm as military as an Atlas cargo pilot can be I guess." The pilot said evasively. "Not exactly civilian though. I can keep my head in a fight in the air."

Weiss recalled how relatively calm the pilot had been when the Lancers attacked, especially compared to the woman who piloted the doomed airship that exploded in front of them. The former heiress repressed a shudder. "I never asked for your name back there."

"I never gave it. Why should I tell you now?" The pilot asked.

"No one else is very willing to drive us around." Yang said dryly. "You might be stuck with us for a while."

The pilot shrugged. "Keep the lien coming and that's fine by me. The name's Sterlyn, and that's all you're gonna get."

"Nice to meet you 'Sterlyn And That's All You're Gonna Get.'" Yang said innocently. "That's a mouthful right there."

Ruby giggled.

Sterlyn snorted. "I don't know if I like you or if you annoy me."

"I'd say like. But don't worry, I'm sure Weiss will bug you in my place once we're off." Yang elbowed Weiss in the ribs, making her sigh. The brawler plopped herself into the seat nearest the pilot and balanced her chin on her hand. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the city?"

"I'm not very knowledgeable." Sterlyn said.

"You're more knowledgeable then me." Yang retorted. "And unlike Qrow, you've actually been in there recently."

Qrow was good at undercover work, but Kuchinashi was one of the last places he could be without causing issues. He only set foot in the city once or twice, and that was years ago. He may look like a scruffy bandit and smell like a bar but he was a respectable Huntsman and any criminal worth their salt knew to avoid him. If Roman Torchwick caught wind that Ozpin's right-hand man was in town, he'd go running faster than if Salem herself was on his tail.

"Hmm." Sterlyn grunted. "Fine, I'll tell you some things. Though I'm not sure all of you should be here to hear some of it." His head turned Ruby's way, just the slightest bit.

The silver-eyed girl bristled. "I can handle it! Why does everyone think I can't?"

"I already have you pegged as a hero-type." Sterlyn said without malice. "If someone screamed for help you'd go running. Kuchinashi would chew you up and you'd never be seen again."

 _And maybe Ozpin doesn't want to lose her Silver Eyes on a mission like this_ , Weiss thought. She kept it to herself.

Ruby had briefly explained how she had defeated the Grimm in Kuroyuri, but even with Ozpin's additional information— if it could even be called that— there wasn't much to say. All Weiss knew was that Ruby's ability was rare, powerful, and untrained, and Ozpin didn't want to risk that potential investment. But that was only a small part of the reason Ruby wasn't going into Kuchinashi.

It was her hero-complex and the fact that they had to find and protect the person who  _took Ruby's eye_  that were the bigger issues. Ruby claimed she was fine with saving Neo, but claims and eventual actions did not always align. It hurt Weiss to think that her partner might unintentionally ruin the mission if her anger got the best of her. It hurt even more that she could trust  _Yang_  not to fall into said anger more than Ruby when it came to Neo.

Yang tensed. "Which is why Ruby's part of the extraction team." She said testily.

Sterlyn either didn't notice her anger or was immune to it. If the latter was the case, Weiss had to admit he had courage. "Good. Kuchinashi is a place where heroes go to die. If you want to go in there and come back out in one piece, you need to listen."

The three girls leaned forward as the pilot told them of the criminal city, and with every passing word, the gravity of where they were headed slowly weighed down on their shoulders. It started with nothing they had not heard before. There were gangs like Roman's, drugs in the streets, Faunus discrimination, bribery, corruption, blackmail, and crooked 'cops'. Then he spoke of street kids who joined the gangs to survive, of the red light district that all of them should not need to go into but should avoid at all costs, of the enforcers that would send resistant 'friends' the fingers of their loved ones in the mail, of the assassins and killers for hire.

Ruby began to gnaw on her lip, face growing pale and silver eye going wide with horror. It finally became too much. "Why doesn't anyone do anything about it?" she blurted.

"What can they do?" Sterlyn asked coolly, but with a small amount of sympathy. "The city's a lost cause as far as Mistral is concerned, and any reforms they try to make will dissolve within the week. Send in a group of Huntsmen to take care of the gangs and you'll just cause all-out war in the streets."

Ruby grimaced. "I get that. I do. But…" Her voice lowered so only Weiss and Yang could hear. "We're supposed to save people."

"We can't save everyone, Ruby." Weiss said so Yang wouldn't have to. "It's impossible."

"Yeah…" Ruby stood up. "I'm going to go check on the others."

She vanished into the cargo hold, her red cloak flicking around the corner behind her.

Yang leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead. "I want to be mad at you for breaking my sister's heart, Pilot Boy."

"I don't sugarcoat things." Sterlyn said, unafraid. Weiss was beginning to wonder how many frightening things he had faced that made an angry older sister absolutely nothing in comparison. "To be blunt, it's a really good thing she's not going in there. She thinks she can save everybody. It's naïve, yes, but I can respect her idealism." He grimaced. "She doesn't need to see humanity's dark side."

"Tell me the rest that you know." Yang commanded.

To his credit, he obliged. Weiss really wished he hadn't. What he already said was disturbing. The new information he gave was worse. Despite her courage and confidence, she was glad she did not have to go into Kuchinashi either. She was beginning to suspect she'd rather face a thousand Grimm than step a single foot in that city.

XXXXXXX

Pyrrha walked down the stairs, covering her mouth to muffle a yawn. Her every step was heavy, her mind muddled with the remnants of sleep, and if she weren't so tired she may feel embarrassed. Everyone else was already up— even Matthew— their beds empty and sometimes made. A glance at the time had shown it was past a reasonable hour to awaken so Pyrrha could only follow behind the rest and hope their tearing would not be too unbearable.

Suppressing another yawn, Pyrrha entered the next room and blinked blearily. She did not recognize this hallway. It was dimly lit in the early hour, the lights casting pale green shadows over the corridor, and she guessed this must be one of the lesser-used parts of the mansion. The champion shook her head, exasperated with herself. Yes, the mansion was big, but she would never hear the end of it if the others found out she'd taken a wrong turn on the way to breakfast.

She turned back the way she came and paused. The hallway behind her was no longer there. Instead, there was an elevator.

"What…?" she whispered.

_Thud._

She spun to look back down the wide, dark hallway. Nothing had changed and she reluctantly looked down a side corridor, trying to figure out the way she had come. Another thud made her jump, followed by another, quicker this time. Pyrrha hesitated and stepped down the hall. It sounded like something was stuck somewhere and trying to get out.

_Did Americat climb into something again? It wouldn't be the first time._

Her steps quickened, seeking the source of the thudding, and her high-heeled feet clicked on the ornate floor. Before she realized what she was doing, she was running, racing down the hallway as her sash trailed behind her. She ran around a corner and screeched to a halt, heart leaping into her throat.

Alfred lay in a pod—  _Vale's_  pod— but unlike the nation of Remnant he was fully conscious. He spotted Pyrrha and pounded his fists against the glass but it did not break. His movements grew more frantic and his mouth moved in a muffled plea she could not hear. Her paralysis ceased and she stepped forward but a hand landed on her shoulder.

Ironwood stood beside her, expression perfectly calm. "Please do not interfere, Ms. Nikos."

Pyrrha forced her voice to work. "What are you  _doing_?"

"You already know." a familiar voice said.

Ozpin stepped out of the shadows, a mug casually held in one hand and his cane at his hip. He walked to the console and Alfred's blue eyes followed him, widening with fear. Pyrrha lurched in Ironwood's hold, but the General held her back.

"This must be done, Ms. Nikos." He said. "Alfred F. Jones must become Vale."

Like his hold was poison, Pyrrha found herself unable to move once more. She watched— her body turned to stone— as Ozpin pressed a button. The machine whirled to life, groaning and shrieking like a feral beast, and green light surrounded Alfred. He screamed, jerking and twitching like he was being electrocuted. As Pyrrha stared in frozen horror, he gurgled and choked. Blood flew from his mouth, dribbling down over his chin, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Stop! You have to stop. He's  _dying_!" Pyrrha screamed. _"Stop!"_

She could scream, but she still could not move, could not try to stop the horrific process herself. Her superiors did not act in her stead.

"We cannot." Ozpin informed her sadly, his regret clear. "We must complete the transfer to save Remnant."

As Alfred continued to howl and shriek, the Headmaster closed his eyes, looking away. Ironwood was unaffected by the twin's pain, watching the transfer expressionlessly. Pyrrha could only watch as well, tears pricking at her eyes as her friend's struggles grew weaker. Alfred hit the glass but every blow was noticeably feebler. Terrified blue eyes flicked from person to person, seeking mercy, before locking onto Pyrrha.

" _Help me_." He mouthed, face twisted with agony.

Pyrrha couldn't speak. She couldn't move. She could only watch helplessly as the hope faded from his eyes. His body lurched, lips parted in a soundless scream, and he planted a bloody hand on the glass, reaching out towards the one person he thought would help him.

She didn't.

Alfred stared at her, blue eyes round, and they filled with tears as he registered her betrayal. The hand pressing against the glass quivered, leaving crimson smears behind.

" _Why…?_ " he choked, crimson dripping down his chin.

His blue eyes slipped closed and his head lolled to the side. His hand slid down the glass, leaving bloody trails in their wake, and his body went limp.

Pyrrha's heart stopped. " _NO!_ "

She yanked herself free of Ironwood's hold and tore the metal door off. It went flying past her, into the darkness and—

_Screeeeeeeeeeeccccchhh!_

Pyrrha flinched at the grating sound of metal tearing through metal and she turned in time to see the door rip through Penny Polendina, bisecting her. The robot girl's stunned green eyes met hers before her upper half fell to the floor, followed by her useless legs. They lay beside each other, leaking oil from her severed torso, and dull green eyes stared at her accusingly.

"No." Pyrrha choked. "No no no no  _no_."

Pyrrha flinched away from Penny's body, hands twitching to her mouth, but they were covered in red, the stickiness of blood dripping down over her forearms. Her crimson fingers twitched, every digit quivering as she slowly registered the feel of it on her skin and under her nails. Strangled laughter reached her ears and she slowly looked up from her bloody hands. Penny grinned at her, teeth colored crimson with blood-like oil.

" _Murderer_." She whispered.

Pyrrha couldn't find her voice to deny it. Penny's grin stretched unnaturally across her face and she crawled towards Pyrrha, wires trailing behind her torso like entrails. The champion backed away, stepping in something sticky, and she turned to see Alfred's body lying peacefully in the pod, his torso ripped open and covered in crimson. His eyes were open now, open and empty and white like snow, but they stared directly at her, forever frozen in an expression of betrayal, hopelessness, and agony.

A low gasp drew her attention to the shadows. Jaune stood at the edge of the chamber, staring at her like he had never seen her before. His bright blue eyes took in the horrific scene before him and his skin turned ashen.

"Pyrrha?" he whispered shakily. "What did you  _do_?"

Words failed her. As her silence stretched on, Jaune shook his head, expression twisting into one of disgust. Pyrrha felt her heart shatter. She stepped forward, hand outstretched, but he backed up, eyes never drifting from her like he dare not look away. Jaune vanished into the darkness and left her alone with her failures.

Pyrrha's body lurched forward like a broken marionette's and she tried to follow him, but a hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled. She fell to the ground, nose to nose with Penny's grinning face.

" _Murderer_." The robot girl whispered. " _Murderer. Murderer_."

The wires dangling from Penny's ripped torso came to life, creeping up Pyrrha's arms and legs and binding them together. The champion's head was pressed to the side, giving her a clear view of Alfred's unmoving, bloody frame, and Penny continued to whisper in her ear.

" _Murderer. Murderer._   _ **Murderer**_."

The wires clamped over Pyrrha's mouth, wrapping around her throat and—

"WAKE UP!"

Pyrrha woke, and registered that someone was looming over her.

She attacked, striking the man in the chest and throwing him across the room. His familiar cry ripped through the air, prodding at her memory but she did not pause to give her assailant time to do more than stagger back to his feet, shoulders hunched in pain. She grabbed the metal headrest with her Semblance, shattering it into shrapnel, and threw it at him with as much strength as she could muster. A burst of wind blasted her hair back, sending the projectiles off course, but it was too dark to see if she'd hit her target. She raised her hand, preparing to summon Miló.

Then the lights clicked on.

Canada was pressed against the wall, violet eyes round as he stared at the quivering shrapnel beside his head. Pyrrha stared at the longest piece that shuddered a mere inch from his shoulder and her lungs filled with ice. America stood in the doorway, skin as ashen as his twin's and his hand still raised from redirecting Pyrrha's attack.

She almost—

She could have—

Pyrrha's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry!"

America blocked the door, refusing to let her flee past him. Pyrrha did not fight him, only shoving at his arm and trying to dive beneath it half-heartedly. She could always shove him and hurt him just like she hurt Penny and Matthew and  _oh Gods—_

Canada appeared at her side and she flinched away from him, hands pressed to her chest so she couldn't accidentally use her Semblance. The violet-eyed twin was pale but he smiled at her.

"Pyrrha, I'm fine. See?" He said rapidly. "No harm done."

"I almost  _impaled_  you." Pyrrha hiccupped.

The ice expanded into her limbs and she sank to the floor, locking her hands under her bent knees. The twins glanced at each other and sat with her, close and companionable. Pyrrha bit her lip to stop herself from demanding they back away. She could hurt them. Didn't they  _see_  that?

"I'm sorry I scared you." Matthew said. "I heard you… making noise so I came in to check up on you."

"Thank you." Pyrrha lowered her head, unable to look at him.

A part of her recalled that the apocalypse couldn't wake Canada so he must not have been asleep to begin with, but she was too caught up in her guilt to ponder more about that. Her hands stayed locked together under her knees.

America sighed, a low, whispery sound to her right. "I think we should have Semblance training tomorrow. All of us.  _Together_."

Canada flinched but steadied himself. "You're right. This has gone on long enough. We can't be afraid of our Semblances."

Despite his words, he shrank into himself, eyes glazed and distant as he comprehended what they were going to do. Pyrrha could sympathize. Ever since the fight with Tyrian and Emerald, she'd known this was coming, but she'd refused to acknowledge it. Her nightmare made it clear her mind no longer accepted her denial, and she shuddered, Penny's bisected body burned into her eyes. She'd killed the girl so easily. She'd killed her  _friend_  so easily. And now she had nearly harmed Matthew because she panicked and used her Semblance.

Pyrrha had always known her Semblance was dangerous and potentially destructive, but that could be said for most Semblances. Then again, most Semblances did not allow their user to manipulate one of the most commonly-used materials in the world. She'd always been so careful, so subtle, but when survival instincts took hold, she let out her power. And Penny paid for her outburst with her life.

Pyrrha wiped at her eyes and nodded. "I agree too."

"Okay." America said levelly. He sighed. "I wish we'd figured out you were having problems sooner."

"I thought I could handle it." Pyrrha admitted, ashamed.

Alfred was silent for a long minute. Then he grasped her hand and squeezed her fingers lightly. "Remember what I said. You aren't alone. You can trust us to have your back."

He meant it. Even with his memory gaps and own problems he meant it. And Matthew's small nod showed he meant it too. Once, Pyrrha might have marveled at their loyalty and friendship, but now those same traits made her fear for them. She knew it was ridiculous, that her fear was illogical, but after Penny, the near-miss with Ruby in Higanbana, and now  _this_ …

"I know." Pyrrha said.

She could trust them to have her back.

She just wasn't sure if they could trust her with theirs.

XXXXXXX

_America returned to the land of the living rather peacefully. The change from comatose to awake was smooth and almost gentle, like he was rising out of a calm, warm lake. He immediately realized he wasn't laying on the slab in his cell. The surface was much too soft and comfortable for that. The blankets were still scratchy, but he wouldn't complain. So unless his captors felt bad enough about his predicament to replace the hard slab with a real bed, he likely wasn't in his cell at all. Low voices reached his ears and he kept his breathing even and slow._

"— _I hired you in the first place, doctor!" Ironwood's voice growled from some distance away._

" _Oh really? And here I thought it was because of my expertise." The doctor's low tones responded coldly. "I cannot disobey Atlas any more than you can, General. She ordered us to proceed with the vivisection, and my coworker was more than willing to follow her orders."_

" _Don't give me that crap, doctor." Ironwood said. "I know you. Your morals are strong. You wouldn't allow this unless—" He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was so soft America had to strain his ears to hear. "Did she threaten—?"_

" _She implied." The doctor interjected stiffly._

" _I see." Ironwood said, no emotion in his voice. "I apologize. The situation is quite stressful and Atlas can be very… driven when it comes to keeping us safe—"_

" _Don't give me that bullshit, James!" the doctor snapped. "Atlas will step on as many 'ants' as she needs to in order to reach her goals. She'll sacrifice millions to keep her Kingdom safe. She has always been like that and you_ _ **know**_ _it."_

_The General said nothing. America considered the situation more carefully. On Earth, it was the bosses that ordered nations to do terrible things. Here, it was the opposite it seemed. He could not say he liked that arrangement any better._

_The doctor sighed. "You have a heart, James. No matter how much you deny it, you were never as cold as Atlas wants you to be. Don't lose that heart of yours for this."_

_The footsteps drew nearer and halted beside America's bed._

" _We know you're awake." Ironwood stated._

 _Seeing no reason to pretend, America reluctantly opened his eyes to see the General's lovely, frowning mug. Oh, how he did_ _**not** _ _miss it._

" _How much did you hear?" Ironwood demanded._

" _Enough to know your national personification is a real bitch." America replied._

_Ironwood's hand clenched and America tensed. Was the man about to strike him for insulting his country? The General restrained himself and America relaxed slightly, taking in his surroundings. He was in a type of hospital room, and cuffed to the bed of course. Canada was nowhere in sight, and that realization made America jerk in his bonds, the monitor by his head beeping frantically._

" _Where's my brother? If you've hurt him I swear I'll—"_

" _You'll_ _ **what**_ _?" Ironwood challenged coolly._

_The doctor put a hand on his arm. "Enough, James." He touched America's forehead. The nation refused to flinch and settled for eying him warily. The doctor huffed lowly. "I'm not going to hurt you, child."_

" _You already did." America hissed._

 _His stomach cramped and he swallowed rapidly to keep himself from vomiting. Oh God they'd actually_ _**cut him open like a fish** _ _. Although he knew the wounds would be gone, he glanced down at his stomach anyway, only seeing the thin gown he'd been put into. His skin crawled as he realized they had changed him while he was unconscious again but there was little he could do. He reluctantly allowed the doctor to check his vitals, glaring at Ironwood._

" _Where's my brother?"_

" _In your accommodations." He replied._

" _It's called a 'cell', jackass."_

_Ironwood ignored him. "You've been unconscious for three days. Subject C—"_

" _Matthew."_

"— _had to be sedated after your… injury—"_

" _Vivisection." America hissed, pretending his voice didn't tremble._

"— _and has been in his cell. He calmed down eventually but it was decided any test results would be inaccurate because of his emotional state."_

" _ **Fuck you**_ _. You can't even call it_ _ **torture**_ _like it is you coward—"_

_A hand grabbed his throat in warning and America clamped his mouth shut, glaring at the General. Ironwood realized what he was doing and released his prisoner, fists clenching at his sides. America swore he heard metal creak._

" _You should be more grateful." The General said coldly. "We could have dissected Subject C while you were unconscious." His gaze hardened. "Your earlier actions in the hallway were unacceptable. You attacked your guard and_ _ **injured**_ _two of my men. This disobedience will_ _ **not**_ _be tolerated._ _ **You**_ _should receive punishment but it would only make you more rebellious. So tell me…" He leaned over, grabbing America's chin and forcing him to look into icy blue eyes. "…what would you be willing to give to keep Subject C safe?"_

_America flinched, bile rising in his throat._

_The General studied him. "I see you care for him deeply. A word of advice:_ _**mind your tongue** _ _. The others will not be as kind as I am if you insult them, and they will be perfectly willing to harm Subject C to keep you in line. But if we have a repeat of your unwarranted actions in the hall,_ _**your brother** _ _will be punished. Am I understood?"_

_America didn't respond, his blood pounding in his ears._

_Ironwood grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake. "I said, am I—?"_

" _James!" the doctor barked. "Enough!"_

_Ironwood released America. Bound as he was, the nation could not reach over to rub his aching limb. Damn the General had a strong grip._

" _If you're done pretending these children aren't the_ _ **victims**_ _—" The doctor continued scathingly, making the General flinch and grit his teeth. "—I need to check your injury, child."_

" _Not like I have a choice." America whispered bitterly._

_The doctor's eyes softened. "You do. If you are uncomfortable, I will return later."_

_Ironwood did not protest._

_America stared at the ceiling. "Thanks, but do what you need to."_

_He tried to assure himself he wasn't giving in when he refrained from struggling and let the doctor peel away the gown to look him over. He wanted to fight tooth and nail every step of the way but Ironwood's implied threat to Canada kept him compliant and maybe a little scared. More like a lot scared._

I can't let them hurt Mattie like they did me.

_America took a shuddering breath. "I can be a good test subject, General." The use of his title made Ironwood focus on him completely. "We can make this easy for all of us." America swallowed roughly, struggling not to gag from disgust. "Just use me for everything you need. Keep Canada for leverage if you need to, but don't experiment on him. Just me. If you want my organs or whatever you're after for experiments, you can have them. They'll grow back. If you do it right I won't go comatose at all. Psychological impact affects my regeneration so if I'm willing you can get more a-accurate results."_

_America spoke as if he were trying to complete a business deal, not like he was bargaining with his enemy and literally offering pieces of his body in exchange for his brother's safety. He felt sicker to his stomach with every word but somehow kept his voice steady and calm._

" _You don't have to use Canada in your experiments. He isn't as strong as I am. If you do to him what you did with me, you could kill him." The lies dripped from his tongue easily, carrying just enough very real fear to hopefully make them think he was being honest._

_Ironwood eyed him, expression neutral, but America liked to think there was a hint of remorse in his gaze. "Are you telling the truth about Subject C being weaker than you?"_

Canada isn't as physically strong as me, _America thought truthfully. "Yes." His voice cracked and he pleaded to the humanity that had to be in there somewhere. "_ _ **Please**_ _, he's my brother. I can't lose him."_

_Ironwood looked away first. "I cannot stop all the tests. If Subject C becomes irrelevant to our research, there are a few scientists who would be more than willing to harvest his organs for other means."_

_America trembled._

" _He will still take part in other tests, but the data has shown your regeneration and recovery rates are quicker than Canada's." Ironwood continued, and America might be seeing things but he seemed less cold. "I do not see why we will need more samples from him."_

_America relaxed. "Thank you."_

_He noticed that there was no mention of_ _**him** _ _being excused from further 'data gathering' but didn't care. Canada wouldn't have to face what he did. That was good enough for him._

_The doctor finished looking over his healed stomach and two soldiers came in. They forced him into the usual white t-shirt and cargo pants and trussed him up in chains and a blindfold before whisking him from the med-bay and back to his and Canada's cell. He did not struggle or comment the entire way there, impatient to get back to his brother and make sure he really was okay._

_As soon as he was chained back to the wall and the soldiers left, America ripped the blindfold off and was relieved to see Matthew on the other side of the room. Violet eyes filled with tears and Canada pulled against his bonds. To the twins' surprise the chains lengthened, allowing him to rush to America's side and hug him tightly._

" _You bled out and they took you away—" Canada hiccupped. "I thought— I thought they were going to dispose of you or keep cutting you up or give you to the Grimm or— or—"_

_America rubbed soothing circles on Canada's back, keeping himself in the present. "Shh. Shh, Mattie. I'm here. I'm okay."_

" _They_ _ **vivisected**_ _you, Al. They_ _ **cut you open**_ _to see what your_ _ **insides looked like**_ _." Canada croaked, voice tight with disgust and fear._

_America shuddered but forced himself to smile reassuringly. "I know. But don't worry. They won't do that to you."_

" _How to do you know?" Canada asked._

 _America considered lying. He knew his twin would see through it. "I… kind of made a deal with the General to keep you safe. Well safe from…_ _ **that**_ _, at least."_ I hope.

_Canada broke free of the hug and his brow furrowed. He looked torn between anger and fear. "What did you have to offer them?" he demanded. "We don't have anything of value."_

My pride. My rebelliousness. My resistance. My freedom. Possibly my insides. _"What do you think?" he asked rhetorically and with a slight bit of discomfort._

_Mattie was not going to take his decision well. Somewhere deep inside, America's ego stung as he comprehended how compliant he would have to act to keep Canada safe. His twin was worth it though. America would act like the most submissive test subject ever if it kept Mattie from harm. Canada squinted at him, thinking it over, and blanched. His skin turned a sickly green._

" _You_ _ **didn't**_ _." he said faintly, eyes flicking down America's torso._

 _America winced and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "I have to protect you, bro. And they won't…"_ Cut me up. _"…do it as often as you think. I don't think they're specifically experimenting on us to figure out how our regeneration works. It's just part of the package of tests. I—" He forced his voice not to shake. "I can handle a few surgeries."_

 _Canada— who looked like he was about to throw up— blinked. Surprise— and was that relief?— flashed through his expression before horror took hold once more. "You offered up your_ _**organs** _ _?" he asked, voice strangled._

" _Yeah." America admitted. "I mean, people do that all the time when they're in a rough patch so why not?" He tried to laugh but it died in his throat. He tipped his head, eying his brother quizzically. "What did you think I was talking about?"_

_Canada paled further and did not respond. "You can't do that for me." He said._

" _Too late." America said with a forced laugh._

" _You idiot." His brother hissed, anger sweeping away his fear. "Why are you doing this? You don't have to protect me!"_

" _Yes I do." America said simply._

" _No, you_ _ **don't**_ _!" Canada snapped. "I can handle myself. What, do you think I'm weaker than you? Do you think I'm some fragile flower that needs to be protected from the mean scary scientists? Am I that pathetic to you? Is_ _ **that**_ _it?" Violet eyes glared at him, brimming with hurt and tears._

_America did not feel guilty for them, because he knew none of those accusations were true. "I'm protecting you because you're my brother." he said simply._

_Canada stared at him, anger trickling away. Eventually he hugged America again, pressing his face against his shoulder. The blue-eyed twin pretended not to notice the tears wetting his shirt._

" _You self-sacrificing_ _ **idiot**_ _." Canada whispered. "I can't stop you, can I?"_

" _Nope." America said, forced cheer in his voice. "I always have to be the Hero, remember?"_

_Canada's embrace tightened. "No. You shouldn't."_

_Not long after, the soldiers came for them again._

XXXXXXX

America forced himself out of bed and walked quickly to Canada's room. Despite knowing his brother wouldn't wake, he carefully opened the door and peered inside, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Mattie snoring on his bed. After the incident in Pyrrha's room, his brother had been able to rest peacefully, unlike America. He shivered and rubbed his arms, considering grabbing a sweatshirt before heading out today. The thermostat claimed it was seventy degrees in the room, but that had to be wrong. It was too cold for that.

America glanced at the clock on his phone and grimaced at the numbers. It was too early for even Japan to be awake. He should go back to bed, but feared what memories his mind would bring back next. Why couldn't he dream about nice times for once instead of everything that happened before his world went to hell? Then again, that inevitable hellishness might be why he was remembering what he did. Or maybe it was Vale's lingering presence in those memories. She was in the facility somewhere, too. The past America did not know what the experiments were really about, but the present one did. Those memories led to one outcome: the transfer of Vale's Aura into his body and the eventual reason for his amnesia in the first place.

America was not looking forward to reliving the rest of that journey. Not one bit.

"Alfred?"

He glanced down the hall and smiled nervously at England, who peered back at him with bleary green eyes. Alfred's gaze flicked to the nation's hands and he snorted.

"Dude, is that  _coffee_?"

England scowled at him. "Yes."

"I thought you only drank tea." America teased.

"I do. But I've found I need the energy." England growled.

He took a sip of the coffee and his scowl deepened. America did not take it personally. If his conversation with England during dinner yesterday was of any indication, he truly was the prickly sort when caught off guard or in a situation he didn't like. America could deal with it. Or maybe his recently regained memories of the  _real_  monsters were helping to change his perspective.

"You haven't been sleeping?" America asked sympathetically.

"No." England grunted. He eyed America critically. "And you aren't either, dimwit."

"I was." America claimed, resisting the urge to teasingly point out  _'Well, duh'_. "I woke up." Panic stabbed red-hot knives into his gut and he winced. "Stomachache."

England strode over to him and touched his forehead with his palm. "Have you fallen ill?" he asked, brusqueness failing to hide his concern.

America relaxed at his touch. It was so similar to the doctor's but he didn't feel afraid. "No. I'm fine now."  _The scalpel sliced through his abdomen—_  America sucked in a breath. "A-Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to look over those books like you promised."

England's eyebrows crinkled together. "Now?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Why not?" America asked with a strained laugh.

"It's three in the morn—" England paused, studying America's face intently. His green eyes softened. "Alright. Let's go to my room."

They headed down the hall and England ushered America inside. The younger nation headed straight for the bed and sat on it, pulling his knees to his chest. England rolled his eyes but did not protest, pulling out a book and perching on the other side of the mattress. He flipped through the pages, studying them briefly before going to the next one.

"I know it's in here somewhere…"

"What are you looking for, exactly?" America asked, propping his chin on his elbows.

"An explanation of magic and why you can now see Uni. One you'll understand." England sniffed.

"Oh. I don't really care about that." America commented. "I'm not letting the change bother me."

England threw his hands up. "Then  _why_  are you here?"

America flinched and started doodling pictures on the bedspread with his finger. "I don't know." He mumbled.

England's hand clenched around the book, crinkling the paper. He set it down in his lap carefully. "You're in pain, aren't you? Don't pretend. I can see you wincing."

America cringed.

England's teeth creaked. "Is it Vale?" At America's startled look, he huffed. "Canada informed me that you are feeling pain because of the Grimm in Beacon."

"Oh." America said, not sure how he felt about that. "Um. I'm not hurting because of Vale… currently." he admitted. "I got more memories back. They're… not very pleasant."

England's eyes darkened murderously. "What happened?"

In contrast to his expression, his voice was shockingly gentle. It threw America for a loop. He'd been expecting anger— perhaps directed at him— but instead England sounded reassuring, supportive even. To his shame, it brought tears to his eyes. He did not let them fall.

"Nothing too bad. I just remembered being trapped and a few tests they did. Nothing that invasive. It just freaked me out a bit." The lies easily fell from his tongue, and he nearly choked on the guilt that came with them.

"I see." England looked pained. Could he tell America was keeping things from him? Probably. The older nation shook himself and carefully placed a hand on America's shoulder, his stiff fingers relaxing when the younger nation did not shrug him off. "What matters is you're safe now. You're home. And those  _bastards_  will never touch you again."

_He was blindfolded and his hands and ankles were bound._

_He was dragged through cold, sterile halls._

_He was drugged, again and again, until he learned to flinch whenever he saw a needle._

_The scalpel sliced through his abdomen._

_Cold eyes watched remorselessly as he pleaded for his brother's life—_

"You promise?" America asked in a small voice.

"I promise." England stated, and America believed him.

The nation curled up next to his older brother, leaning on his shoulder. "I don't want to sleep. I don't want to remember more."

"I cannot stop your dreams." England apologized, knuckles white as he gripped his pajama pants. "But I promise I'll keep them from repeating. It won't be much longer before the shield is up. Remnant won't be able to get here again."

"Not physically." America murmured, fingers brushing his chest. The flare of pain from the Dragon's claws was to be expected but his vision still went white, and he focused to see England's panicked face floating above him. "Sorry."

His brother's jaw clenched, a familiar, furious glint entering his expression. "Do not apologize. Vale is not your responsibility and it is cruel that you carry the burden of that Kingdom."

America was not sure how to respond so he held his tongue.

England cleared his throat and glared at the wall. "If you are willing, I may have something that might be able to help you with the pain."

"Really?" America gasped. At England's nod, he launched himself at his brother, hugging him. "That'd be awesome. Thank you!"

England gently detangled himself, brushing creases from his pajamas. "It's magical in nature so I will be unable to do it right now, but someday."

"Someday." America echoed, beaming. His face scrunched and he yawned. "Sorry."

England brushed his hair away from his eyes, looking unflinchingly at blue and green irises. "You should sleep."

"I don't…" America yawned again and frowned, vision blurry. He was a  _nation_ , not a toddler, dammit. He wasn't about to let himself fall asleep sitting up.

England disagreed and gently nudged him. "You can sleep here. I'm going to keep working."

Too tired to argue, America nodded blearily and crawled under the blankets. "Thanks, Arthur."

He was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to name the pilot 'Sterlyn' which is a German name meaning 'of high quality, pure' and also has to do with refiners of silver.


	16. Disgust

Telling stories was an efficient way to give information. As details were handed out and explained, it painted a picture in the listener's mind, allowing them to understand what they did not directly know. Be it verbal, through pictures, or through text, any information helped expand their knowledge and prepare them for what they would face.

Hearing those stories was one thing.

Seeing them in person was another.

 _It's so dirty_ , Yang thought, skin crawling.

She was not sure if she meant that figuratively or literally. The streets of Kuchinashi were certainly grimy, with grimy buildings, grimy people, and grimy, broken roads that would not look out of place in a post-apocalyptic world. But that dirtiness went deeper than the surface, like it was a poison seeping into every soul, and as she and the remnants of Team JNPR walked down the sidewalk, she felt thousands of eyes on them.

Yang wouldn't say they stuck out like a sore thumb. Rather they stuck out like diamond daggers. They were shiny and new and probably valuable, but their blades were sharp, so no one dared to approach them. For now. Yang could only hope that caution would last. She didn't want a fight just yet.

Sterlyn's pointers had been small but helpful, and they seemed to be working so far. Their lien were in inside pockets in their clothes. They walked as if they knew where they were headed. They ignored all the little alleys and pathetic-looking souls around them, souls that would most likely be a trap if they went to assist them. They were in pairs, with Yang and Jaune up front and Ren and Nora in the back, with the knight walking just half a step behind the brawler, at her right shoulder.

Yang always had Ember Cecelia around her wrists but now her gauntlets were deployed on both her normal and metal hands. Jaune, Nora, and Ren kept their weapons in their sheaths, but the way they walked easily revealed them as they warned the locals not to try anything. It felt less like they were striding through a city filled with humans and more like they were walking into a den filled with Grimm. Hungry eyes watched them, searching for weaknesses, but the small fry knew better than to approach.

"We're already being followed." Ren informed them calmly.

Qrow's voice crackled Yang's ear.  _"Keep an eye on it but don't engage unless they do."_

They all heard the message, for each of them had the radio-like devices the Huntsman had procured for them. They were shaped like fake, black earrings, and if anyone commented on them they were a sign of the four 'defected' teens' unity. If the questioner continued to press they'd reveal that yes, they were radios to keep in contact with their teams,  _idiot_.

It had been Ozpin's idea. Yang gritted her teeth, sending a few meeker locals scurrying, and reined in her anger. Now was not the time to dwell on it. There had been no opportunity to grill the Headmaster for answers about Summer— not ones she had been willing to take with Ruby so close— so she had to stew in her mistrust a little longer. She could deal. She'd focus on the mission.

When Yang went to Beacon to become a Huntress, the last thing she thought she'd do was spy work. She knew that some Huntsmen and Huntresses did that— Hell, her uncle was a covert ops kind of guy— but she'd intended to be a Grimm-killing machine. Yet here she was, going undercover.

_Gods I hope I don't screw this up._

"There's the 'employment office'." Jaune said, blue eyes locked on something ahead of them.

Yang briefly followed his gaze to a decrepit building before scanning the area. Her gaze briefly locked with a random woman's. She looked away first and vanished into the crowd. Yang scoffed but put her appearance to memory. She could be a nobody, but she could be somebody, so Yang would remember her.

They entered the building that cheerfully proclaimed it was an employment office in peeling white letters. Yang would call it a front, but it was no such thing. It was exactly what it said it was: an office where one could seek employment. It just so happened to employ criminals for criminals. Such an establishment would probably be taken down faster than a blink in Vale, but this wasn't Vale.

The establishment wasn't very busy. Only a few people were at the counters— with some clients looking more desperate than others— while the workers remained unflappable and detached. If Yang did not know any better, she may believe she had walked into any recruitment office. It looked nice enough— comparatively— with relatively good lighting, floors, and cleanliness. Yang supposed even criminals wanted to make a good first impression for their potential underlings. An unoccupied worker sat behind one of the counters, playing something on his Scroll with an utterly bored expression on his face.

"I'll do the talking." Yang said. "You three watch for trouble."

Jaune took her orders without protest. "Got it."

As the three members of JNPR held back and watched the area, Yang sauntered up to the man on the Scroll and leaned over the counter. "Hey there."

The man glanced up and predictably looked at her chest before her face. He smirked. "Hey there yourself, pretty lady."

Yang smiled. "I'm  _not_  pretty."

The man opened his mouth— likely to make another lewd comment— and did a double take. His grin vanished and he tensed. "Ah. I know you. I won't press my luck."

So the people of this city  _had_  seen what she did to Alfred. Yang kept her smile in place. "Good choice. Since you know me so well, you can probably guess my career options have gotten a little less open as of late. My friends and I've decided to find employment elsewhere."

She gestured vaguely at Jaune, Nora, and Ren. The orange-haired girl grinned eagerly at her, while Ren looked slightly bored. Jaune leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes constantly scanning the area. With those hard blue eyes, he painted a dangerous picture. If Yang had not seen him recently, she might have trouble associating him to the smiling, goofy boy she'd met a year ago. How greatly times had changed.

The man nodded. "Heh. You won't believe how many people come here with that." His eyes flicked to Jaune, Nora, and Ren. "Any of them Faunus?"

"Nope." Yang made sure not to scowl. She knew Mistral was less accepting than Vale but she had a feeling Kuchinashi was going to be even worse when it came to prejudice against the Faunus. She couldn't blow up about it and defend them like Blake would. The thought of her partner almost made her eyes flash red but she kept her temper under wraps. Now was not the time.

"Good." The man said. "What job are you looking for?"

"Someplace we can use our combat skills." Yang supplied easily.

"You think you can go from beating up Grimm to beating up people?" the man asked as he looked through some papers.

"I already did." Yang said carelessly. Internally her stomach twisted with guilt. She shrugged. "Let's be real; Huntsmen and Huntresses are glorified mercenaries for hire anyway."

The man grinned. "Keep that kind of thinkin' and you'll do fine here." He kept shuffling through the papers. "You know any names?"

"Roman Torchwick." It was telling that the man didn't flinch. In Vale, hearing that name would make the employee call the cops, but here unlawfulness was the law. She might as well say she was planning to work for a librarian for all the man cared. "We have a prior history."

"What kind of history?" the man questioned.

"None of your business, cutie." Yang said with a wink.

"Hmm." The man looked through a few more papers before pulling four out. "Here you go. He could use a few more enforcers and guards. You'll have some competition. You up for that?"

Yang accepted the papers and smirked. "Competition will just make it fun. See you around, big guy."

With a flip of her hair she returned to the others and they exited the building.

The moment they were outside, Nora drummed her fingers on Magnhild. "Can I go and break that sleazeball's legs?"

"No, Nora." Ren said with a sigh.

"Please?" Nora begged.

" _As much as I want to say yes, don't."_  Qrow said through the comms. Yang could hear his anger. He hadn't been able to see anything but the man's tone was enough to make him want to march into the city and introduce him to Harbinger.  _"You've got the first step down. Now you need to find an apartment."_

"Sterlyn told us a good area to check for a place to stay." Yang said, looking at Jaune and pretending to be talking only to him. "How much lien do we have to fall back on?"

"I'd say a couple weeks." Jaune commented. "We probably won't run out before we're set."

Yang nodded, withholding a grimace. She tried not to think about the time limit for their mission. It was true that the enemy had the same limit looming over their heads, but they could already be in the city, searching, and with leads Yang's team had not begun to uncover. If Neo was with Roman, it would be easier to find her, but it would be easier for their enemies to find her too. It was their best shot, so they had to try.

" _Spend frugally. You won't be able to find Torchwick right away."_  Qrow warned.  _"You might have to get hired and play the part."_

"We'll try for the guard position." Yang decided. Her voice lowered. "That way we'll hopefully have to hurt less people."

Qrow was quiet for a time. Then he sighed.  _"I hate to say this, but even if you become an enforcer, the people you'd be hurting_ _ **aren't**_ _innocent. You'll be criminals fighting criminals, and you won't have to worry about compromising any cops. You four are likely the only good undercover agents in Kuchinashi."_

The teens walked in silence for a time. They passed past shady figures offering something in clear vials, dirty children who eyed them nervously and ran away, a purse theft, a homeless person digging in a dumpster, and two men casually dragging a struggling third into an alley. Barely audible above the bustle of the city, Yang might have heard a gunshot.

"They really did just give up on this place, didn't they?" Nora murmured.

" _Can you handle it?"_  Qrow asked sharply.

"Yes." Yang said, not looking towards another alleyway where she could just barely hear pained whimpers and metal striking flesh. "We have to."

XXXXXXX

 _I don't want to do this_ , Canada thought.

He sat in one of the many hallways of America's mansion, back against the wall and Kumajirou tucked securely in his arms. The bear nudged his chin trying to comfort him with his presence alone, but Canada couldn't bring himself to smile. He felt  _cold_. It sank into his flesh and bones, and for just a second he stood in the middle of a relentless winter storm, the ice caking his skin as it drained the life from his limbs—

"Are we going now?" Kumajirou asked.

Canada shivered and adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie. "I guess so. You don't need to come, Kuma."

"I meant what I said." The white bear said stubbornly. "I want to help. I'm not scared."

_I am._

Canada forced himself to get up off the floor and shuffled down to the main level, holding Kuma like a security blanket. He found America chatting with Tony, but his brother cut off the conversation and grinned at him.

"Hey, Mattie!"

"Hi." Canada mumbled. He cleared his throat and spoke more clearly. "Hi."

America's blue eye softened.

"What are you two talking about?" Canada asked before his brother could say anything.

"Oh, I was just asking Tony about artificially creating something." America said airily. He squinted his visible blue eye. "What did you call it? 'Synthesizing'?"

"That's correct." Tony grunted.

"What do you want to synthesize?" Canada asked.

His brother smirked infuriatingly. "It's a secret~" America sang.

"You're an idiot~" Canada sang back.

America laughed and stuck out his tongue. "Rude."

The click of heels interrupted them and Pyrrha strode down the hall, decked in her normal armor and with her javelin in hand. "Are you two ready?" she asked.

"Yep." America replied.

 _No._  "Sure." Canada grunted.

"Hello!"

Canada winced as he heard Italy's eager shout. The four turned as the Italian ran up to them, dragging a disgruntled Romano behind him with Germany trailing at the back. South Italy yanked his arm free of his brother's grasp, rubbing his wrist and muttering angrily in Italian.

"Hey, America." Italy greeted Alfred again. "I'm glad I found you. I was wondering if you wanted to learn to make pasta with me today." He clapped his hands together, rocking on his feet as his aura screamed hopefulness.

A few days ago, America would have glowered and given a short, polite no. Now he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, dude. I have prior engagements. Maybe later."

"Oh." Italy drooped but popped right back up almost immediately. "What are you doing?"

"We're heading to Tony's new hologram room for some training." Pyrrha explained.

"Ooo! Can we watch?" Italy asked excitedly.

"Italy, you cannot just ask that." Germany sighed.

Italy tipped his head. "But I just did."

Romano huffed but Canada could tell he was interested.

The violet-eyed twin shifted uncomfortably. "W-Well…"

America noticed his discomfort. "I'd rather you not." He said apologetically to the Italians. "You can check out the hologram room before we start though."

"Okay." Italy agreed happily.

They headed down to one of the lower levels, entering an insignificant door at the end of one hall. The sound of water reached Canada's ears and he gaped, stepping out onto a beach. The warmth of the sun shone down on him, he smelled the slight tang of salt in the air, and as he stepped onto the sand he felt his feet sink slightly into the soft ground.

"Holy shit." he breathed.

America cackled at his expression. "Pretty cool, right? Tony and I worked really hard on it. Mostly Tony but I helped."

"This is amazing." Germany admitted, looking at the shimmering waves in wonder.

Italy flopped onto the ground. "I can feel the sand!" he gasped.

"The holograms have mass." Tony explained. "You can touch them as if they are real." He demonstrated by creating a chair and sitting on it. "They only work in this space and the water isn't completely implemented yet but solid objects function perfectly."

Italy beamed and sat up. " _Wow_. Do you know what you could do with this technology?"

"It's not for sale yet." Tony said testily. "Maybe not ever." He muttered under his breath.

Italy shrank in on himself. "Sorry."

Germany and Romano glared at the alien, briefly united in their outrage on Italy's behalf.

"Can you create living things?" Canada asked before a potential fight could break out.

Red eyes stared intently at him. "Not 'living' but I have created AI creatures for battle training simulations."

"Creatures like Grimm?" Pyrrha questioned.

The warmth of the sun vanished, replaced by the familiar icy ache in Canada's chest. For a moment, he wasn't on the beach anymore, instead standing in  _a terrible snowstorm that threatened to freeze his blood—_  Canada released a shaky, sharp breath and returned to his body in time to see Tony nod.

"Yes. America gave me the information so they should be accurate."

Italy paled. "Oh, I forgot to make pasta for lunch! I need to go. Come on, Germany!" He grabbed the German's wrist and sped out of the room faster than any of them could comment.

Romano sighed and kneaded his forehead with his fingers. "That idiot." He made to follow his brother and 'the potato bastard' but paused, looking to Tony. "Hey, alien bastard."

Tony glared at him. "What, pasta bastard?"

Romano scowled and crossed his arms, but Canada could see the stiffness in his posture. "Show me one the Grimm." He balked. "A still image.  _Not_  attacking."

Tony silently typed something into the console attached to his wrist. An Ursa Major appeared before them, frozen with its mouth open in a roar and its teeth clearly on display. Romano took a terrified step back, eyes growing round as his skin went ashen. He trembled visibly and swallowed.

"I-I see." He stammered, eyes never leaving the Grimm. "Take it away."

Without commenting on his slightly hysterical tone, Tony did so. The Ursa vanished and it was only then that Canada realized he'd been holding his breath. He glanced at Pyrrha and saw her hand on her javelin, while America stared at the empty space that once held a 'Grimm' neutrally.

Romano still trembled, but his voice was surprisingly calm. "I need to find Italy. Nice room, I guess."

It was as much as a compliment as they would get from him.

"Thanks." America said, beaming.

Romano nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Tony looked to Pyrrha. "I do not know how your Semblance works, but once I have more data I will be able to make the metal in the hologram react as real metal would to your powers. For now, I have stuff for you to practice with."

The room cleared, revealing wide blue walls with lines along them and a wide window on one wall. Some everyday metal objects were scattered about in haphazard piles, starting as small as a needle and going as big as a car. Canada bet Tony would have dragged a ship in there too if he could get it to fit through the door.

There were also a few old TVs, computers, and video game consoles, along with other technology ranging from an old telegraph to a phonograph. America and Pyrrha had everything they needed. They could rely on physical, inanimate things to practice on, unlike Canada, who had to use real, living, breathing things and could potentially turn them into an empty husk if he messed up—

America laughed. "I feel like we're on a playdate. Nice toys, Tony."

The alien huffed. "I'll be in the observation room if you need anything."

He exited the room, leaving the three alone.

Pyrrha immediately went to the pile of metal. "Tony, could you set up some targets for me?"

After a pause, red targets appeared.

Pyrrha smiled at the window. "Thank you."

"You have a plan?" America asked.

"Today I'm going to test my limits and see the biggest objects I can move." She said softly. "I'm used to being subtle with my Semblance, but I think I need to learn how powerful it can be."

"We'll leave you to it." America said casually, expression soft. "Call if you need a partner."

At her nod, he turned to Canada. "So what's your plan, Mattie?"

"I don't know." He said, looking down at Kuma. "I have no idea how my Semblance is activated."

"That's why we're here." America reminded him gently.

Canada tensed. "I'm  _not_  using you as a guinea pig."

"You can use me." Kumajirou reminded him firmly. "I won't get hurt."

Canada embraced the white bear just a little more tightly. "You don't know that."

"None of us will know until you try." America said gently but with an undertone of steel. "Mattie, you  _have_  to figure this out or you  _will_  end up hurting someone. I trained with my Semblance and—"

"Your Semblance isn't dangerous." Canada snapped.

America met his glower with one of his own. "I could stop someone's pacemaker. I could corrupt their insulin pump and make it go haywire. I could make devices keeping a coma patient alive stop working while making it seem like everything is fine to the people that look at it. I might be able to  _hack into the Pentagon_  or something by simply touching a computer here but I'm not about to test that. My Semblance could screw people over or kill them if I'm not careful with it."

Canada ducked his head, heart twisting with guilt. It was obvious America had thought of horrific applications for his Semblance, but at least it wasn't inherently evil. America could probably fix a broken pacemaker with a touch, or stop a cyber-attack on a government facility. What could Canada do? Make a person forget a traumatic event and leave them in denial?

America flicked his ear, making him yelp. "You're doing that thing again where you're all self-loathing. Stop it."

"Or what?" Canada asked without any heat.

"I will hug you. And tell you every nice thing about you. And smother you with affection no matter how much it embarrasses you." America threatened, eye glinting.

Canada's lips twitched. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"I will literally sing your praises." America stated.

Canada winced. "That won't be necessary."

His brother huffed, but his indignation was ruined by his smile. "I'll have you know, I have a wonderful singing voice."

"Keep telling yourself that." Canada set Kumajirou down and sat across from him, pulling his knees to his chest. His fears clawed through his stomach, leaving an empty hole behind, and he shivered. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do." he whispered. "I don't even know where to start."

America mulled it over, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Maybe you have to touch the person?" He suggested after a pause. "I usually have to touch the tech stuff I want to manip— use." He picked up a broken phone for emphasis. The cracked screen turned on and chimed despite the lack of battery powering it. America dropped the phone and it immediately died.

"How about you try to make me forget about America turning the phone on." Kumajirou suggested.

Canada chewed on his lip, turning it red. "That… sounds harmless enough." He said hesitantly.

He reached out, placing his hand on Kuma's soft head. Nothing happened that he could see, and Kumajirou blinked his big black eyes at him.

"I still remember." He reported.

Canada pulled his hand away and put it to his eyes. "What am I  _doing_?"

"Trying to  _control_  your power." America said gently.

He stopped to watch as Pyrrha threw a metal shipping crate at the target, obliterating it. Unaware of her audience, the champion faltered, staring at the crushed target with round eyes and a hand to her mouth. She shook herself and picked up the large crate once more, breaking it apart and demolishing another target.

America returned his attention to Canada. "I know you're scared of it, but that's exactly  _why_  you have to control it. It's a part of who you are, whether you like it or not."

"I guess." Canada mumbled.

America nudged his shoulder. "Hey, don't be like that. I bet you can do some awesome things with it. You just have to try different things. Like…" he tapped his chin. "Maybe you have to say something along with touching them. That's what some superheroes have to do."

"You're the expert." Canada said dryly.

"Yup." America grimaced. "Emotion's probably a thing too. You probably have to be less timid about using your Semblance."

"Why  _wouldn't_  I be timid?!" Canada snapped. He recoiled, hunching in his hoodie. "I'm sorry."

America merely wrapped him up in his arms, saying nothing. Canada tried to break free at first but eventually succumbed to his brother's hug.

"How about we take a break?" Pyrrha suggested.

It was obvious she had heard their conversation. Canada nodded mutely and followed them out of the room, feet dragging with every step. Kumajirou wiggled in his arms and he winced. The bear felt oddly heavy, which should be impossible. Canada was not at America's level of strength but he was far above any average human. So why did his arms feel like they wanted to fall off?

Pyrrha slowed down to walk beside him, arms raised hesitantly "May I hold him?"

"Sure." Kuma said before Canada could agree.

Pyrrha accepted the bear, grunting under his weight before settling him comfortably in her arms. "He's so soft." She murmured.

Canada nodded silently, head pounding. His vision blurred and icy wind tore through his clothes and heart. He shivered, and a warm arm wrapped around him, pulling him back into his body.

"Matthieu!" France greeted. "Have you been hiding from Big Brother France all morning? I am hurt." He pouted.

Canada smiled apologetically and glanced around, realizing he and France were alone.

The older nation guessed his question before he could ask. "The others went ahead to lunch so I could talk with you. We have not really spoken much since I arrived."

"Sorry." Canada apologized. "I've been busy."

"You have." France agreed. His blue eyes softened and he gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Canada's face. "You have been dealing with much. How are you feeling? You are rather pale."

"I'm okay. Just feeling a bit cold." Canada admitted.

France frowned, placing a hand on his forehead. The violet-eyed nation huffed and pushed his hand away, going still when he met solemn blue eyes.

"You do not get  _cold_ , Matthieu Williams." France said sternly. "You are one of the few nations I know that is nearly immune to it."

Canada shifted his weight and avoided France's eyes. "I— Well—"

"And your new Semblance should only help you be more immune." France continued. "I saw Amérique during the fight in Kuroyuri. If he can walk through flames, you should have no issue with…" He trailed off, eyes going wide.

"France?" Matthew asked, concern growing when his brother did not respond.

"It is Mantle, isn't it?" France breathed, and Canada cringed. "You are feeling  _pain_  from him like America and Vale. Except Mantle was a  _dying_  nation…" His jaw set but Canada could see the raw  _fear_  in his eyes. "We must tell the others."

Canada paled. "No. I'm fine." He grabbed France's arm before he could leave. "Please don't tell them!"

"Non! You should have told us this sooner." France said harshly and Canada flinched. "Do you not understand what is happening? Canada, the city of Mantle is dying.  _It could_   _take you with it_."

Canada's throat closed and he choked. France's words were a slap to the face and a spear to the heart, leaving the walls he'd constructed crumbling down. France was right. He was  _right_.  _Mantle_  was  _dying_  and  _Canada was Mantle_. The former nation was falling into oblivion, so why  _wouldn't_  Canada be affected by his— Mantle's decrepit state? The revelation Canada had been trying to ignore forced itself to be known and he crumpled to his knees, eyes round as he stared at nothing.

_Am I going to die?_

"Non.  _Non_ , Matthieu." France whispered, gathering him into his arms, and Canada realized he must have spoken aloud. "We will figure something out. We will fix this. Surely Angleterre will have a way—"

"No." Canada said shakily, pulling away. "You can't tell him. You can't tell anyone. There's nothing you can do."

"There is  _something_." France snapped, and the desperation in his voice brought Canada that much closer to tears.

Canada couldn't believe him. Numbness took his sorrow away and he leaned against his big brother, shivering as flashes of deadly snow covered his vision. "Nothing like this has happened before." He whispered, and he felt France stiffen. "Will my people die too?"

France ruffled his hair gently, reminding him of safer times when he was a young colony. "I do not know. Losing a personification can have a terrible impact on their people. If— If the worst happens, the people may become a new country, or they could merge with another nearby nation."

 _America_ , Canada thought, his fear tearing his heart to shreds.  _Will this happen to him too?_

"We can't tell them." He insisted again.

France's arms tensed around him. "We can and we will. We will tell them and we will find a way to stop this. We  _will_."

France sounded as if he were trying to convince himself and failing. He was going to do everything he could to help Canada, but that salvation may be impossible. Canada grasped France's hand before he could leave, standing up and looking at him pleadingly.

"Don't. Knowing will only hurt them." He pleaded.

"Sitting by while you are dy— in pain will hurt them more." France retorted. "Do you want them to find out when you collapse? Is  _that_  what you wish?"

Canada's gut twisted into knots. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let France tell England and America and everyone else that he was actually  _dying_  because of Mantle. Not only because they might drop all attempts at a peaceful solution, but because he didn't want his family to be burdened by the knowledge of his death.

It could take weeks, months, or years, but Mantle  _would_  fall. It was already a defunct Kingdom, and it would only be a matter of time before the final blow snuffed the life from its personification.  _Matthew_  was its personification now, and he would fall with it.

He would  _die_  with it.

He  _couldn't_  let his family know.

"Forget about it!" Canada begged.

France's hand went limp in his grasp. Canada instantly released his brother, looking at his face, and saw France's eyes were unfocused.

"France?" Canada asked, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

France shook himself and gave a small smile. "What is it, Matthieu?" He glanced around the hallway in confusion. "Oh. I do not remember coming here. Were we talking?"

Canada stared at him mutely.

Then he burst into tears.


	17. Psych 101

Ruby did not like to think she was a nuisance. She was an annoying little sister at times, yes, but that was part of her job as a younger sibling. As a leader, she wasn't supposed to be annoying. She was supposed to  _lead_. But she didn't feel like she was doing much of that right now. Instead she was… well…

… _possibly_  being a nuisance.

"Any progress?" Ruby asked hopefully.

"None since the last time you asked." Her uncle replied.

Qrow may not be a saint but he had the patience of one. He took her hovering in stride, sitting casually in a small motel room with a map of Kuchinashi spread out in front of him. The little town was more than ten miles away from the city, but it was the closest one the group could find. As Qrow said, no one wanted to be within spitting distance of the criminal-run city. In fact, they were lucky to find accommodations so close.

Ruby looked at the red marks scrawled on the page and hummed, finding nothing of importance to input. Frustration bubbled up in her chest but she buried it under a smile. "All these sightings seem to be focused on the South side of the city."

"Yep." Qrow said idly. "Torchwick's gotten lazy. Or he thinks he's safe in Kuchinashi."

"As safe as anyone can be there." Weiss commented. "He can't have a lot of friends after taking part in what happened in the breach."

"You'd be surprised." Qrow said. "The people of Kuchinashi don't give a damn about Vale or its people. They don't give a damn about Mistral either so don't feel bad about it."

"Will Mistral—" Ruby grimaced. "Will  _Neo_  be safe with them? She's their personification, even if they don't know it. Don't they feel some type of connection with her?"

"Doubtful." Qrow said. "I'm afraid humanity is perfectly capable of attacking their own personification just like they can attack any other human. Mistral is especially vulnerable since her people and government deny her existence."

 _She deserves it_ , Ruby thought viciously. She flinched, cringing at her own thought. "That's interesting."

"Hmm." Qrow grunted. "You've been stuck in here a while, Ruby. How about you go stretch your legs a bit. I don't want you getting old and dusty like me."

"You just called yourself old." Ruby teased.

Qrow scowled and prodded the side of her head. "Shoo. You too, Ice Princess."

Weiss sniffed and followed Ruby outside. "Your uncle is infuriating."

"I heard that!" Qrow said from behind them.

"I  _know_!" Weiss shouted back.

Qrow sighed audibly. "Schnees." Ruby heard him mutter.

She quickened her steps to catch up to Weiss, swinging her arms as she walked. "So do you want to go get food or something? I saw a place that sells noodles down the street."

"That will suffice." Weiss said. She paused in the doorway of the motel and abruptly took out her ponytail, letting her white hair fall down her back.

"Changing your look?" Ruby asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Weiss said. "I do not think it would be wise to let everyone here know who I am."

Ruby glanced at her back, noticing the Schnee family symbol was covered by her hair. "Why? We're not in Kuchinashi."

"We're close enough for some criminals to think my capture and ransom would be worth the effort." Weiss said stiffly. "I'd rather not take any chances."

Ruby wanted to ask why she didn't just take off the jacket but kept her question to herself. After all, Ruby wouldn't want to take off her cloak, not even for a clandestine operation.

 _The cloak probably makes it really easy to identify me,_  Ruby thought.  _No wonder I wasn't taken on the mission._ Her expression crumpled.

Weiss noticed and stopped. "Ruby?"

"Sorry." Ruby mumbled. "I'm being stupid."

"Why do you think that?" Weiss asked.

Ruby opened her mouth to deflect or lie, but Weiss's blue, earnest eyes made her defenses crumble. She sat on a small barrel next to a rickety building and put her head in her hands. "I'm  _useless_  here. I'm just sitting around doing  _nothing_ while my sister is on a mission to save the world."

"You're not." Weiss denied as she perched on another barrel. "You're just not suitable for the main part of the mission."

"I don't see why not!" Ruby said, anger sweeping her sorrow aside. She threw her hands up into the air. "I can fight. I'm a Huntress. I can handle seeing Neo again. And despite Yang's efforts, I know how bad the world can be."

"Knowing and seeing are two different things." Weiss said. "And the cruelty of humanity and Grimm are different too. Can you blame us for not wanting you to see that?"

"I've  _already_  seen it." Ruby said, thinking of Beacon, the White Fang, Kuroyuri, and  _Neo_. "It feels like they purposely kept me here. I'm  _not_  a kid that needs to be protected." She muttered under her breath.

"I know. We all do." Weiss said. "But Ruby, you're too  _kind_ for this type of mission. It just doesn't fit the type of person you are. Yang and the others... might have to do some messed up things. You aren't capable of that."

That made Ruby go quiet, her ire dwindling. "Is that a compliment?" she asked, hoping to break the heavy silence that fell over them.

"Yes." Weiss decided. "It is." She stood up and offered her hand. "Now come on. We should make backup plans just in case they need our help."

Ruby smiled and accepted the hand, letting Weiss pull her to her feet.

XXXXXXX

America knocked on the closed bedroom door only out of instinctive courtesy. He did not expect an answer. He never did for the past few days. He entered without receiving acknowledgement, the door hinges squeaking loudly in the uneasy silence that draped over the room.

"Mattie?"

There was no response from the lump under the blankets on the bed. America expected that too. After breaking down while talking to France, Canada had fled to his room and had not come out since. Instead he stayed in bed under the blankets, and if not for the half-eaten trays of food he constantly retrieved, America might feel worried. More worried than he already was, that is. He did not understand what happened. France did not either, only that Canada had been sobbing as he fled. He did not remember saying anything rude to Matthew, and although America did not mention anything to him, the twin suspected he might know what had occurred.

When America tried to prod Canada about it, his brother did not respond. Canada did not respond to anything when anyone was in the room, at least. He ate and got up to go to the bathroom, but that was it. He didn't even speak to Kumajirou, who stayed loyally with his owner and watched over him when others couldn't.

America knew what depression was. He didn't understand the causes or anything, and he was far from a doctor, but he was certain Canada had fallen into it. Why? How? What could Alfred do to help? He didn't know, and that was killing him. At least Canada had an appointment with the therapist later this week; America's heart had twisted when he looked at his brother's calendar and realized he had changed his appointment so his and Alfred's were no longer on the same day. Hopefully the man— 'David Whitman'— would be able to help.

For now, all America could do was set a meal on his brother's bedside table and sit on the corner of his bed. Canada's back was to him. It always was lately. He hadn't seen his brother's face in days. He tried not to worry. He wasn't succeeding but he was trying to stay positive.

"Hey, Mattie. I brought breakfast." He said with false cheer.

Silence.

"I have my therapy session today. I'm going to drive myself."  _You said you'd drive me._  "Pyrrha offered but I need to get used to it again. I hope the therapist guy is as nice as you say."  _You promised you'd be there to introduce him to me again._ "Does he do ink-blot tests or is that just in movies?"  _It's fine that you can't, but could you tell me_ _ **why**_ _? Let me help. Please._

Canada did not answer him.

"O-Okay. You keep it secret then." America said, forcing a smile. He stood up. "I have to go. The others are here if you need anything."

Canada said nothing.

America sped-walked out of the room, pressing his lips together and praying he wouldn't cry. He nearly ran into France in the hall, skidding to a halt just in time to avoid colliding with him. The normally flawless nation looked bedraggled. His hair was slightly unkempt, his eyes had dark shadows beneath them, and he stared at the door to Canada's room like a drowning man stared at the surface of the water.

"You should go in." America offered.

"I do not know if that is a good idea. I upset him somehow and caused…" He gestured at the door. "…this."

America did not know how to comfort him. "Just… don't leave him alone. I'll be back in a few hours. Call if anything changes."

France did not answer him, staring at the door with a distraught expression. America reluctantly left him to it, saying goodbye to a few others he passed and meeting Pyrrha at the car. They got in, him in the driver's seat and her in the passengers, and the doors thudded shut. America started the ignition, feeling Pyrrha's eyes on him.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Not really." America grunted. "But that's why I'm going to this therapist guy. I guess I'll talk to him like I'm supposed to. Yay."

Pyrrha said nothing and looked ahead. The drive was peaceful but tense, not quite uncomfortable but not carefree either. America felt bad for not talking at all, but he didn't feel like it. He had to focus on driving, not what was happening at home.

It was a nice added bonus that he  _couldn't_  think much about anything either, because apparently it was idiot-hour on the roads, also known as the infamous time people decided their cars made them invincible. America reacted quickly and calmly when a sedan decided to turn left from the right lane. The woman's car swerved slightly but she kept on driving without causing a collision.

"Moron." America muttered, checking on his passenger.

Pyrrha gripped her seat, knuckles white.

"You okay?" he asked.

She released a breath. "I am fine. I think I pushed her car away so it wouldn't hit us."

America blinked. His hands tightened around the wheel. "Cool. Good job, Ms. Bodyguard."

Pyrrha snorted and the atmosphere was less heavy than before. It snapped right back into place as America pulled into the parking lot of their destination. He glared at the building miserably and leaned over the wheel with a sigh.

"Let's get this over with."

He walked into the building with Pyrrha at his right shoulder. Unlike the doctor's office, this practice did not smell like the lab in Atlas. It actually smelled like cinnamon. America sniffed the air as he stepped up to the desk and checked in.

The receptionist smiled at him as she scanned his card. "It is nice to see you again, Alfred."

America smiled so he wouldn't grimace. "Nice to see you too." He couldn't see a name tag or plaque anywhere so he left it at that and accepted the card back.

"David will see you now." She said.

"Great." America said, struggling not to cringe.

Pyrrha stayed in the waiting room with a magazine while America walked alone to his doom. Therapist David Whitman stood in the doorway to his personal office, smiling warmly at America. The nation did not recognize him at all, but he clearly recognized America. And Canada said he could be trusted…

"Hello, Alfred." Whitman greeted. "Come right in."

"Hey." America mumbled.

He entered the small, neat room and glanced around curiously. The walls had a few pictures of flowers and grassy fields, a simple blue rug covered the floor, and there was a nice tan couch— for patients— and comfy-looking black chair— for Whitman— along with a few items in a basket near one arm. America eyed them uncertainly, jumping when Whitman chuckled.

"Those are for if you want something to do with your hands." He explained.

"Huh." America said vaguely. He sat on the couch, feet planted on the floor and posture stiff.

Whitman sat as well, crossing his legs. "I've been told about your amnesia. Do you have any questions?"

"Sure." America said briefly. He looked around at the pictures on the wall, wiggling his foot. "What do we do here?" he asked hesitantly.

"We talk. Or we don't. And at the end I sometimes give you an assignment to do at home." Whitman said pleasantly. "It's all up to you."

America fiddled with a little blue basketball from the basket. "What do we talk about?"

"Whatever you want."

"Can… I talk to you about Mattie?" he asked cautiously. At Whitman's nod, he took a breath. "Something bad happened a few days ago. Mattie had a breakdown and now he's… well, I think he's depressed. He won't talk to anyone, he won't leave his room, and he barely eats. Do you think you can help?"

"Perhaps." Whitman said. "We shall see once I speak to him for myself."

"Yeah, I guess so." America mumbled. His shoulders slumped and he gripped the basketball between his hands. "I don't know what happened. Everything was fine, but then it wasn't. And I think it's  _my_  fault." His voice cracked.

"Why do you think that?" Whitman asked.

America opened his mouth and shut it. "I can't say."

"I will not share anything you tell me with anyone, Alfred." Whitman promised.

America shook his head. "No. I still can't."  _Canada wouldn't want him to know about his Semblance._  "Um. I pushed Mattie to do something he didn't want to do. It was scaring him a lot and I thought that if he faced it, he could control it. Instead he had a breakdown. I should have seen it coming. I'm such an idiot." His head lowered and his hair fell into his eyes. Eye, because the other one was covered by that  _stupid_  eyepatch—

"I think you were trying to do what you thought was right." Whitman said mildly. "You cannot be expected to be able to predict how your brother will respond to everything. It is likely that stress has been haunting Matthew for a while. Like how I can see it haunting you."

America touched his eyepatch and closed his eyes. "Do you know what Vale is?"

"Yes. I have been informed of the basics." Whitman said.

America took off his eyepatch, letting it hang around his neck like a necklace. His blue and green eyes locked onto the therapist. "Then you know I was… asked to become Vale."

"Asked?" Whitman questioned.

Memories rushed into America's mind, skipping forward and leaving a large blank.  _He saw long halls dimly lit by green torches, and four people looming over him. He remembered them but not completely. He just knew they had betrayed him somehow. James Ironwood. Ozpin. Glynda Goodwitch. Qrow Branwen._

" _Please don't hurt my brother." America pleaded like he had with Ironwood months before._

_Something in Ozpin's brown eyes seemed to dull. "We're not going to hurt you, Alfred. Either of you."_

America flinched and sucked in a pained breath, digging his nails into the basketball. He was surprised it did not pop in his grasp.

" _The current Vale is going to die. It is not a question of if, but when. If she passes now, we fear that the rest of her Aura will go to her assailant, a very dangerous individual who should never have the powers of a nation. That is why Ironwood and Atlas needed you. You're special. They discovered that your body could accept Vale's Aura, which would prevent it from going to her attacker."_

" _I truly am sorry for what was done to you. You were taken from your home and put through inhumane experiments. But I'm afraid what was done cannot be undone. You have a part of Vale's Aura inside you. You are the only one who can safely and reliably take the rest. If you do not, a monster may get Vale's full powers and who knows what that will do to my Kingdom with them." The Headmaster looked him in the eyes. "I need to ask you to be a hero, Alfred. I need you to agree to become Vale."_

"I was  _forced_  to become Vale." America said. "There were these… people. Important people. Like, they were a 'trying to save the world' type of important. They pretended I had a choice, but the process was already started. Even if I said no, Vale's Aura would come to me eventually." His shoulders shook. "They acted like I had a  _choice_ when they were the ones who  _took_  it from me."

Whitman said nothing, watching in silence as America gathered himself. He wiped at his eyes— he wasn't crying yet, thank God— and looked back at the basketball.

"How do you feel about that, Alfred?" Whitman asked quietly.

_Vulnerable. Used. Horrified. Violated. Scared._

"Pathetic." He whispered. "I was just another pawn in their game. I  _still_  am. They abducted me, and hurt me, and vivisected me like I wasn't human, and then they expected me to  _save_  them." Bile rose in his throat but he swallowed it. "And I  _did_. I agreed to become Vale. And look where that got me." He laughed bitterly. "I  _let_  them win. They got exactly what they wanted."

It was the truth. He became Vale, just like Ironwood and Atlas wished. He kept that power out of Cinder's hands and his disappearance kept the Relic of Choice out of Salem's. He was doing everything Ironwood and Ozpin's group wanted him to, dancing along like a puppet on strings merely by existing.

"Is that how you feel? You 'let' this happen to you?" Whitman questioned.

America hesitated. "Yes. No. I don't know." Whitman tipped his head and Alfred felt the need to elaborate. "I said yes to them. I gave my consent. I mean, I didn't want to, and I didn't really have another choice but I said  _yes_."

"It sounds to me like you were coerced." Whitman commented.

"I wasn't." America rushed to say. "I just— The circumstances were— They  _aren't_  bad people." He thought of Atlas and grimaced. "Not all of them. They're just doing what they thought they needed to in order to save their world." He thought about his words in the doctor's office and Pyrrha's previous response to them. A pit opened in his stomach. "I'm defending them again."

"Are you?" Whitman asked. "Or are you trying to rationalize and humanize their decisions for your own peace of mind?"

The familiar rush of shame came back and America averted his gaze. "I don't know."

Whitman lowered his notebook. America had not even noticed when he began writing in it. "Alfred, if I may be blunt, let me ask you a question." At America's hesitant nod, he continued. "If someone was attacked in the street, would you blame them for being attacked?"

"Of course not." America said, shocked he would even ask.

"Then why do you blame yourself for what happened to you?" Whitman asked levelly.

"This is different." America denied.

"Is it?" Whitman asked.

"Yes." America snapped. "I kept  _giving in_ , okay? I stopped fighting. I made deals with them. I  _agreed_ to be their test subject so they wouldn't hurt Mattie. I should have fought harder to get us out of the lab. I should've told Ironwood and Atlas to shove it. I should have been stronger. Instead I was  _weak_." His anger drained away, leaving him cold and tired. "I should have tried harder."

"You did everything humanly possible to survive your situation." Whitman said gently.

"I'm a nation." America reminded him.

"You are still human." David stated. "You are neither invincible nor infallible. And you are not to blame for Vale."

America's eyes— blue and green— stung. "But I'm messed up now. I lost my memory, and everyone's waiting for me to be better. They look at me like I'm broken or…" He thought of England's sidelong glowers and wilted. "…disgusting."

"All of them?" David questioned.

"No. Mattie, Pyrrha, Tony, and Kiku are pretty supportive." He mumbled, rubbing at his stupid, stinging eyes. "Francis is pretty cool too and Arthur's gotten better. He can look at me without glaring now, anyway. But… he's still angry sometimes." Bitterness clawed at his throat. "I'm no longer  _his_  America."

"Do you think he blames you for what happened?" David asked.

America said nothing. He spun the ball slowly between his fingers. "Sorry I unloaded all that onto you."

"That  _is_  my job." David pointed out with some humor in his voice. He glanced at the clock. "Do you wish to continue?"

America noticed how long it had been and shook his head. "No. I don't want to waste your time."

"You aren't wasting my time, Alfred." David said sternly. "I think it would be best if you schedule an appointment for a couple days from today."

America frowned. "Isn't that when Mattie comes in?"

"Indeed. You might as well carpool next time." David said. He smiled slightly. "Do you feel a bit lighter?"

America thought about it and nodded slowly. "A tad. I needed to get that off my chest." He blinked. "I opened up to you pretty quickly. Did you use some therapist magic on me to make me talk to you?"

"Indeed." David joked. "Though it may just be my natural charisma at work."

America snorted and rolled his eyes. "I see why I like you."

David smiled. "Now I'm afraid it's time for your homework assignment." He reached into a desk and handed America a plain notebook. "Write whatever you wish in here. And if you feel the need to, you can always call me."

America accepted the business card and put it in his pocket. He slid his eyepatch back over his green eye and followed David Whitman out. Pyrrha was perusing another magazine, eyebrows raised. She spotted him and rose from her seat, setting it back onto the pile.

"How are things?" she asked carefully.

"Good." America admitted. "I hope you didn't get bored sitting there."

"I do not mind." Pyrrha claimed. "Next time I shall bring something to entertain myself."

"Handheld consoles and electronics are allowed if you keep the sound off or wear headphones." David said. "I'm David Whitman."

Pyrrha shook his offered hand. "Pyrrha Nikos."

"I've heard about you." David mentioned. He handed her a card. "Here's an extra card for Alfred or Matthew. And remember, my door is always open for anyone."

Pyrrha smiled politely and nodded, putting the card in her pocket. America waved goodbye to the receptionist and they departed.

XXXXXXX

England glowered at the laptop's screen, rubbing at his eyes. The message he had been staring at for hours was still there, mocking him with its presence alone. It revealed only the request for America to be targeted and where he was, along with a script for the encounter and specific instructions not to physically harm him. There was nothing else, not even the slightest signature or hint as to the sender's identity.

England was not one to deal with stupid modern technology. Normally he would ask America for help but that was out of the question. He did not want his brother to know an investigation was ongoing. And by ongoing he meant going nowhere. Someone draped themselves over England's shoulders and he sighed irritably.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Frog."

It was telling when France said nothing perverted, instead hugging England tighter. "Just let me have this, Arthur." He whispered.

England grimaced but did not shove him away. "Is Canada doing any better?"

"Non."

"Who is watching him?"

"Russia."

England tensed. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's fine." France assured him wearily. "Russia is merely sitting in the room and knitting."

"He's  _knitting_?"

"Oui."

England let that particular topic go and sighed. "And we still don't know what happened?"

France shook his head, quivering. "I don't know what I did wrong."

England shifted uncomfortably. There was no way in hell he was going to comfort the Frog. He settled for patting France's arm awkwardly. "I'm sure it wasn't just you. Canada will recover in time."

"Merci." France murmured. He released England, wiping at his eyes suspiciously. "Have you made any progress on our conman's mysterious employer?"

England turned back to the laptop and scoffed, inwardly thankful for the change of topic. "Not yet. I'm no computer hacker. I cannot figure out anything about him. All I have is this email and that's it."

"Perhaps you should ask America for help. He is quite the tech wizard." France suggested.

"You know why I cannot. I don't want him to worry."

"He can handle the news. He is much calmer now than before." France pressed.

"His brother has fallen into a depression. He's getting painful feedback from Vale. His memories are  _still_  gone. I doubt he's  _calm_!" England snapped.

France wilted.

England winced. "I apologize. I'm frustrated by my lack of progress here."

France glanced at the open books on the bed. "So you have had progress elsewhere?"

England nodded stiffly. "Yes. The shield is almost complete, and I am nearly ready to approach Alfred with the sep—"

There was a beep. Both nations looked back at the laptop. A new message had come in, the first since they got the computer from the criminal.

England eyed the little envelope warily. "What the bloody hell?"

"Be careful, Angleterre." France cautioned. "It could be a virus."

"It's not my computer." He huffed. "And we haven't been getting anything from it anyway."

Ignoring France's protest, he opened the email. It was completely blank except for an attachment called 'Al'. England hesitated briefly and clicked on the link. The files opened, revealing photos.

All of them were of America.

England's eyes raked over the pictures, taking in every one. One showed Alfred in the Colosseum, walking among a gaggle of tourists. Another was in front of Alfred's doctor's office; his brother striding towards the car with Canada and Pyrrha just out of frame, only their shoes and legs visible. Another showed them sitting at a table at an ice cream parlor, and although the setting was innocent enough, the additions the photographer had made were not.

Canada's face was crossed out with thick, jagged black lines of ink, while Pyrrha's image was chopped into pieces like someone had taken a knife to it. Only America's image was pristine, his face caught in a carefree smile.

There was a second beep. Another file appeared. England clicked it immediately and the picture loaded.

Alfred smiled as he walked with Pyrrha to their car, the sign for David Whitman's office clearly within frame.

Below it was a message written in red:

**See you soon, Alfred.**

England leapt to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. "France—"

The Frenchman had already dialed, his phone up to his ear. "Alfred! Yes, it's me. Get in the car and drive. Now.  _Right now_."

England heard America's muffled voice through the speaker and a loud clatter. He tensed, reaching for the phone, but France held it away from him, pressing speaker-phone button.

"— _drive, Pyrrha."_  He heard America say. There was a roar of tires.  _"We're moving. What's going on, France?"_

"You're being watched." England said, taking the phone from France's shaking hands. "We've received photos. They're all of you in public places."

America inhaled sharply. He gave a laugh that was obviously forced.  _"Wow. Uh. That's fun."_  The car engine revved.  _"Pyrrha, I'd rather you not get arrested for speeding."_

" _I'm getting you home."_  Pyrrha stated.  _"How did you get the pictures, Arthur? The mail?"_

"Email." England replied. "We just got one of you at the therapist's."

There was a pause. Then a strangled, choking sound came through the phone. England's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized the source as America.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

America did not reply.

" _I think he's having a panic attack."_  Pyrrha's voice shook as she answered.  _"Alfred. Al, breathe slower please."_ There was a heart-stopping pause. _"I'm pulling over."_

" _Don't!"_ England gripped the phone tighter at America's choked exclamation. _"Don't stop. They might be around. Please, keep driving. I'm fine. I'm fine._ _ **I'm fine**_ _."_

America was  _not_  fine. He did not sound anywhere  _close_  to fine. And England was too far away to do anything but listen helplessly as his brother struggled to breathe evenly.

" _What if it's them?"_  America asked, and England realized he was speaking to him.  _"Arthur, what if it's_ _ **them**_ _? I can't— I can't do this again. You_ _ **promised**_ _."_ He sounded dangerously close to tears.

England's heart tore itself to shreds. "It's not them." He said, the words like ash on his tongue. "There have been no signs of portal activity since we arrived. It  _isn't_  Atlas, Alfred."

Silence answered him.

Then Pyrrha's small, cracking voice came through the phone.  _"He's fine. He's staring out the window."_

"Are you alright?" France asked urgently. "Do you need us to come get you?"

" _I'm fine."_  The champion said steadily, only the slightest tremor in her voice.  _"And no. I'm capable of driving."_

England shut his eyes, squeezing the phone and hoping it wouldn't break. "Just get him home."


	18. The Bite of Failure

Pyrrha stayed calm the entire drive home.

She stayed calm when Alfred did not speak the whole time.

She stayed calm when a black car pulled behind her on a busy road and seemed to follow them, only to turn down a different street.

She stayed calm when she pulled into the driveway and France and England hurried outside, the bushy-browed nation ushering a silent America into the mansion with one hand while the other gripped his staff.

Pyrrha followed them in, ready to use anything from the flagpole to the car itself to defend them if necessary. It was just like any escort mission, she told herself. It was like any mission where she had to guide and protect someone. She knew how to do it. She'd learned such tactics in Beacon. Except this time her hidden enemy wasn't a Grimm somewhere. It was very,  _very_  human.

Pyrrha locked the door behind them, methodically checking all the locks and scanning the security feed for anything suspicious. America's breathing was still loud and quick but hers remained slow and steady. She was in control. She would be ready to defend Alfred. After all, this was her job, and  _damn it all_  she had already failed at it.

"Are you alright?" England asked his brother, hands laid gently on his shoulders.

America nodded, sucking in a few, ragged breaths. "I'm fine. Sorry for freaking out."

"It's perfectly understandable." England assured him.

America shuddered and his blue eye landed on Pyrrha, shining with terror. "Someone's been  _following me_."

"Should we inform the President?" Pyrrha asked, all business.

"Not yet." England said slowly. "Unless you want to be trapped in this house with agents everywhere—"

" _No_." America said firmly, and his shaking stopped. "I'm scared." He admitted and laughed painfully. "Like  _really_ scared. But that doesn't mean I'm going to hide. I can't…"  _I can't be trapped again_ , Pyrrha knew he didn't say.

"We'll have to be extra cautious when we leave the mansion." Pyrrha said. She frowned, considering her lack of a weapon. "Could you and Tony help redesign Miló so I may discreetly carry it with me?"

"Maybe." America said. Pyrrha could already see the wheels turning in his head as he considered possible ways to do it.

"That's a good idea, but it does not help with our photographer problem." England said, grimacing.

America took a breath. "Show me the photos."

The Brit took them to his room and showed them his laptop. They looked at the photos in silence, taking in each picture, and the tension returned to America's frame. It appeared every time they'd been outside the photographer had been nearby.

Pyrrha's eyes lingered on her own torn image and she frowned. "I don't think the photographer likes me."

"You don't have to accompany me if you think you're in danger." Alfred said instantly.

Pyrrha shook her head. "No. I will be fine." She looked at the ominous message below the latest picture and grimaced. "I am not the target."

"Is it Atlas or Salem that did this?" America asked the question they all were thinking. His tone was terse and his jaw tight and quivering.

"It  _can't_  be—… There's no way to know right now." England said reluctantly. "Whoever it is isn't flaunting their identity."

"Could it be another nation?" Pyrrha mentioned.

"That is a possibility." England said reluctantly. "They could have hired someone to do it for them."

"Why?" America asked.

England scowled. "They might have found out about your amnesia and are trying to frighten you."

America bared his teeth, blue eye flashing green. "If that's the case, I'd  _love_  to talk to them."

France cleared his throat. "I believe you all are missing another option. We could be dealing with a human stalker."

Pyrrha grimaced. As a public and well-known figure on Remnant, having someone obsessed with her to the point of following her around was one of her nightmares. It had never happened, thank the Gods, but late at night when she couldn't sleep, the champion's thoughts would sometimes drift to such a possibility. Now she had other fears and worries to plague her in the darkness.

America shuddered. " _Please_  no. I already have enough problems."

"We have to consider it." France told him firmly but not unkindly. "Sometimes it is the mundane that is the answer."

"If it is a stalker, then the consequences should not be severe." England murmured, almost to himself. "But if it isn't…" He trailed off, staring into empty space.

"Are you  _certain_  your portal-sensing system works?" Pyrrha asked carefully.

England twitched but did not take offense, nodding wearily. "Yes." His back straightened. "I will speak with Tony. The shield takes priority over everything else now."

Pyrrha bit her lip to keep herself from speaking. The question she wanted to ask danced on the tip of her tongue but she held herself in check. Now was not the time to ask for progress on getting her home. England wouldn't have forgotten or assumed she would simply stay on Earth, right?

 _But I have to stay. Until this enemy is revealed, I can't leave Alfred._  She thought of sunny blond hair and bright blue eyes and squeezed hers shut, forcing Jaune from her mind.  _We'll reunite someday soon. America and Vale is my mission, but Earth will never be my home. It's just temporary._

America's expression grew pinched. "I'm going to go check on Mattie."

He was retreating again, hiding away from both them and his feelings. Pyrrha could not blame him. It struck her then just how much danger he could be in, and that if it wasn't Atlas after him, it may very well be one of the nations of Earth. Even the ones inside this house could be suspects; the ones he had  _just_  tentatively begun to consider friends.

Red-hot anger rushed through Pyrrha at the thought but she expelled it with her breath. She hoped that wasn't the case. She did not know what had happened with Alfred, Neo, Roman, and Mercury but she had enough snippets to guess. If one of the nations was pretending to be America's friend, only to torment him from behind the scenes, immortal or not she would  _not_  let them get away with it. Not again. America had already been hurt enough.

In the distance, someone screamed.

XXXXXXX

_I can do this._

Italy's feet were lead. His entire body trembled, as did the sword and gun he wielded, but he was rooted in place, unable to run no matter how much he wanted to. The foggy woods did not allow him to see much, but he was perfectly aware of the black shadows moving in the mist, creeping closer and closer as they circled their potential prey.

 _I can do this,_ he thought.  _I fought off Turkey when I was small. I can fight. I can be brave._

Thoughts did not always turn into actions, but he was going to try. He could find that strength again. He could be useful. He could—

Red eyes glared at him from the mist, and his already sweaty palms grew clammy and weak. A Beowolf lunged from the fog and he screamed, lurching to the side as he slashed its side open. He rolled under another Grimm's leap, shooting it as it flew above him, and its body crumpled, fading to ash. Italy brought his sword up, blocking jaws before they could sink into his face, and a sideways sweep slashed the Beowolf's throat open.

It crumpled, flaking away, and Italy tried to slow his panicked breathing. He was doing just fine. He would survive. He wouldn't run away this time. The Beowolves would just chase him down. He had to stand and fight.

_I can do this._

He stabbed another Beowolf, feet steady, weight balanced, and shot one in the back of the group. It would be easier if he had one of those transforming weapons but there was no need for them just yet. But he would do his best. He had to. The Grimm were  _here_. He couldn't flee. He couldn't' fail. Not again.

The Beowolves pounced as one, piling on top of him.

" _No!_ " Italy screamed, trying desperately to shove them off.

He emptied his last two bullets into one Beowolf's head but another grabbed the empty gun, ripping it from his fingers as teeth dug into his arms. Sharp canines and claws pricked his legs and torso and he screamed in terror. He couldn't shove them off. He wasn't strong enough. Hysterical tears trickled down his cheeks as the Beowolves came in for the kill and—

Vanished.

" _Simulation: Failed."_  A female, robotic voice said.  _"Would you like to try again?"_

Italy stared at the blue ceiling of the hologram room, breathing ragged and heart in his throat. Before he could consider taking up or denying the system's request, the door slammed open, making the room shudder. He wearily turned his head to meet Germany's outraged expression.

"What are you  _doing_?" Germany demanded furiously.

Italy sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, shoulders shaking. His clothes were not ripped and he was not hurt in the slightest. The holograms couldn't harm people, after all. It would be too dangerous if they could. But he could still feel the Beowolves' claws and teeth, just a millimeter from sinking into his flesh.

He hiccupped. "I wanted to test out the holograms."

"By loading a  _Grimm battle simulation_?" Germany bellowed.

Italy shrank in on himself, avoiding Germany's gaze. "I pressed the wrong button."

"You expect me to believe that? You have a gun and sword right there." Germany hissed and Italy recoiled. "What were you  _thinking_?"

Italy bit his lip, wriggling in discomfort. "I just… wanted…"

Footsteps approached and England, France, America, and Pyrrha rushed through the door.

"What happened?" England demanded. "We heard a scream."

Germany grimaced and faced them. "I apologize. Italy activated a battle simulation on accident."

America frowned. "Dude, you  _can't_  just start a battle sim on accident. You have to use a specific code from Tony's manual and go through ten screens asking if you're sure. Tony made it that way to  _prevent_  any accidents." He frowned. "What simulation did you use?"

Italy stared at his knees.

"Grimm." Germany answered for him.

Italy flinched.

America winced.

Pyrrha stiffened.

" _Why?_ " England spluttered. "Didn't you have enough of those bloody creatures on Remnant?"

"I just wanted to see if I could fight them." Italy mumbled.

England scowled at him. "And I ask again:  _why?_  We are on Earth. There are no Grimm. We are never returning to Remnant. We are  _never_  going to have to fight Grimm again. So why in the bloody  _hell_  would you want to—"

"Italy has a few bruises. I'm taking him to the infirmary to look him over." Germany interrupted.

He scooped up Italy who yelped, clinging to Germany's neck so he didn't fall. The blond-haired nation strode past the others and out the door, taking quick, steady steps towards his destination. Italy clung to him in silence, unable to process this turn of events for a time. Once he did, he leaned against Germany's shoulder.

"I'm not hurt." He mumbled. "The simulations can't do that."

"I know. But you worried me." Germany admitted. "I saw you through the window, when you were pinned." His grip tightened. "I know it was not real but my heart stopped."

"I'm sorry." Italy whispered.

Germany carried him in silence, ignoring the questions China, Japan, and Australia asked as they passed them in the hall. At least they did not run into Romano. Italy's big brother would not take kindly to what happened.

 _He'd call me an idiot_ , Italy thought, tears pricking at his eyes.  _And I_ _ **am**_ _an idiot._

They passed into the wing that held the small infirmary, the silence only broken by Germanys strong footsteps.

"…You do not need to prove anything to me, you know." Germany said softly.

Italy's face crumpled so he buried it in Germany's chest. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "I'm sorry."

XXXXXXX

Well.

This was certainly not what Yang thought she was going to do with her life.

She, Jaune, Ren, and Nora were guarding a shipment of Dust. Specifically, they were guarding a shipment of  _illegally-obtained_  Dust from Atlas. Yang knew such shady transactions happened all the time, but after Atlas's borders had been closed Dust had become even more of a rare and valuable commodity. In other words, Roman Torchwick's business was booming and he needed more people to guard his goods. That was great for Yang and their mission but not so great for her principles.

Getting hired by one of Roman's men had been shockingly easy. The moment the guy found out they all were trained in combat, had Aura, and high-end, personalized weapons they were employed. The term 'background check' did not seem to exist here— at least, not for low-level rookie grunts— so they slipped into the criminal world with no issue.

So here they were, guarding a warehouse in the middle of the night. From the outside it was nothing special except for the tall wall that surrounded it, giving it a bit more defense than a simple building. There was a guard station on one side but one of the more experienced criminals was there, sitting in a chair and doing nothing. It was up to the four teens to patrol and handle anything that came their way.

Their new boss's intel suggested a rival gang was going to attempt to steal the Dust inside the warehouse. Yang hoped the gang wouldn't try it. She'd beaten up criminals many times before, Junior's men and the White Fang being only two examples. This would be no different, except the option to give mercy was off the table.

Their boss had made that perfectly clear, because if the enemy didn't die, they'd run to their bosses and come right back. There were no police to arrest unconscious criminals, and Torchwick had no interest in keeping more than one useless rival grunt around. That was their orders: Eliminate all trespassers except one unlucky soul. If the gang showed up, they would be trying to kill Yang, and she'd have to return fire with equal ferociousness.

It bothered her as much as it didn't, because she didn't become a Huntress to mow through people who probably wouldn't stand a chance. Yes, she loved fighting, but she loved fighting for the good side. Roman Torchwick was far from good.

But if they succeeded in defending the Dust and got a glowing recommendation, they might be one step closer to finding Roman and Neo.

If they failed they would be in trouble faster than Ruby's Semblance.

Yang was so glad Ruby wasn't on this mission.

"We've got company." Ren said calmly.

Whatever sixth-sense he had was a God-send on this mission. It was difficult to see in the darkness. They could really use someone with night-vision like Blake—

Yang aborted that line of thought, nodded, and clenched her fists. Ember Cecelia was already deployed. "How many?"

"Ten. They're heading towards the east side." Ren reported.

"Anyone else?"

"No."

"Shall we intercept?" Jaune asked.

Yang took a breath. "Yes. Nora, with me. Jaune, you and Ren keep an eye out over here." She tapped the official earpiece they all had been given. "Call if any more show up. Don't worry about making noise."

No one would come running if they heard gunshots here. They were practically background noise, as common and unnoticeable as breathing. Yang and Nora slipped through the building and to the east side, spotting the dark figures climbing over the wall. A sniper would be useful right now. But Ruby wasn't here, so they had to get closer and personal.

_No going back._

The moment the last trespasser's feet landed inside the wall, Yang launched herself from her high perch, landing directly on him. She ignored the crunch of broken bones and punched another gang member in the gut, sending him crashing into the wall. A kick took out a third member, and the others finally reacted, light flashing from the muzzles of their guns.

Nora struck one with her hammer, careful not to send him flying out of sight, and he hit the stone wall, sliding to the floor. He did not rise. Yang dodged the machine gun fire, blasting herself forward with her weapons and kicked the man in the face, sending him stumbling.

 _He has Aura_ , she thought.

She elbowed him in the face before punching him in the gut, dodging his swipes and grabbing his head. Her knee met his nose with a crunch and he slumped, eyes fluttering shut. Yang spotted one of the criminals running towards the building and fired a shot at her, grimacing as it hit her in the back. She crumpled like a broken puppet.

Nora's hammer met the skull of another criminal, and his Aura flickered and died before his head struck the ground. It bounced as it hit the asphalt, and crimson trickled around his head like a grisly halo. Yang scanned the area, counting ten fallen men and women. She put a hand to her ear.

"Ren? Are there any more trespassers?"

"No." the ninja said shortly.

Yang slumped, shutting her eyes briefly. They snapped open at the sounds of footsteps and she looked to see the other guard hurrying towards them. His gaze swept over the fallen criminals and he whistled.

"Good job, newbies. Did you keep one alive?"

Yang pointed at the man with Aura. "Him."

The guard grinned. It was not a nice smile. "Excellent. I'll take him in."

He walked past another gang member and paused. In a swift motion, he pulled out his gun and shot the man in the head. Yang flinched and Nora gasped.

The guard calmly put his gun back in its holster. "That one was still breathing. You're welcome."

 _Just pretend it's any old mission_ , Yang thought. She smiled. "Thanks."

The guard nodded. "You did good. Return to your posts while I take this one to base. I'll send the cleaning crew to take care of the rest of them."

He picked up the unconscious gang member and walked off. Yang and Nora returned to Jaune and Ren, and they continued their patrol. It was almost like nothing happened at all.

Nothing… at all.

_They didn't stand a chance._

Yang's breathing stuttered.

"You guys okay?" Jaune asked tentatively. "Did you get hurt in the fight?"

"No."  _That wasn't a fight. It was a massacre._  "We didn't even get winded."  _It was so_ _ **easy**_ _._

Jaune briefly put a hand on her shoulder and did the same to Nora. His blue eyes were far too empathetic, so Yang avoided looking at them for too long. There was no commentary from her earring either though she knew Qrow had heard the whole thing. Her heartbeat stuttered.

"Is Ruby there?" she breathed.

" _No."_ her uncle said softly.  _"She's asleep."_

_They weren't even a threat. We could have defeated and tied them all up no problem._

Except they  _couldn't_  because their new 'boss' wouldn't want them alive. Would he have ordered them to execute the gang members if they took them prisoner instead? Gooseflesh prickled up Yang's arms and she shuddered, gripping her metal wrist with her flesh one.

They had succeeded in their assigned task.

Their success and obedience would keep them on track of their real mission.

So why did she feel like she failed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was weird to write this chapter because I honestly don't know how the RWBY characters feel about killing humans/Faunus. Team RWBY threw White Fang grunts off the train with no problem and fought/killed them during the Battle of Beacon, so that should mean they're fine with killing their enemies, right? Or did RWBY etc. just assume they would have Aura and be okay? Did they feel bad when they realized the Faunus "didn't make it out of those tunnels"? Blake has probably killed before during her White Fang days (even if it was an accident) but the others? I doubt Yang, Ruby, and Weiss had to kill human opponents before Beacon. Like, even hero-of-all-heroes-naïve-innocent Ruby didn't so much as blink about killing people...
> 
> Maybe I'm overthinking things. That happens.
> 
> And now, a funny little note to kill the mood: When I was writing the part with Italy, I accidentally typed 'sun' instead of 'gun' a few times so I imagined Italy using Sun as a club and whacking his enemies. My brain is weird sometimes.


	19. Drawn and Sketchy

Yang felt dirty. Her hair was pristine— if a little sweaty— her clothes were clean, and her skin was as free of grime as possible after pacing around outside all night, but she felt like she'd been dragged through the mud. Nora said something about a shower before Yang could and ran into the bathroom, turning the water on. That left Yang to settle for slumping on the pathetic-looking couch in their run-down apartment. The cushion didn't have enough springs to bounce when Jaune flopped down at her side, dragging a hand over his face.

"At least there aren't any roaches." He had commented optimistically when the four teens first rented the place.

The walls were peeling, there were only two beds— one of which was a pull-out in the couch— and there was hardly enough hot water for one shower, but no bugs. Right. What a fabulous perk. Yang pushed away her bitter thoughts, knowing it had nothing to do with the state of their accommodations. She stood abruptly and went to the sink, washing her hands vigorously. Dirt from the previous night fell away from the flesh and metal, leaving her skin red.

"Careful." Jaune cautioned. "You don't want to get water in that." He nodded at her prosthetic.

"It's fine." Yang snapped. She winced. "Sorry."

" _Yang?"_  She flinched again when Ruby's voice came in her ear.  _"You okay?"_

"I'm tired and cranky." Yang claimed. "And I feel like we haven't progressed at all."

"We have." Ren said levelly. "We are now inside Roman's organization and our…  _coworkers_  are beginning to trust us. We'll be able to ask for information soon."

"The sooner the better." Yang said, grabbing a towel. "I hate this place."

" _Are you going to be okay?"_  Ruby asked quietly.

Yang sighed. "Yeah, sis. I'm made of tough stuff. But…" She looked out the window— which barely held onto the wall with cracked molding— and out over the dark, dirty buildings outside. "I can't wait until we find Mistral and leave."

"Same here." Jaune commented, grimacing. "Are we  _sure_  Roman is in this city?"

" _Yes."_  Qrow confirmed but quickly elaborated.  _"As sure as we can be, anyway."_

"That's not comforting." Jaune said flatly.

Nora darted out of the shower, fully dressed but hair wet as she put her comm earring back in. "Hey, has Lionheart made any progress about sending help?"

" _We haven't heard a peep from him."_  Qrow revealed, undeniably peeved.  _"Then again, we haven't told him about this little outing."_

"Wait, doesn't that mean no one knows where we are?" Jaune questioned.

" _That's the point, kiddo."_  Qrow said plainly.

Yang's stomach twisted in on itself. "If we vanish, no one will know." she murmured.  _Just like Summer._

Ruby gasped, apparently having heard her.  _"We'll know! Don't worry; we'd rescue you."_

Yang smiled despite her sister being unable to see it. "I know, sis." Someone knocked on the door and she grimaced. "There's our paycheck."

Jaune, Nora, and Ren had already spread out, taking positions in preparation in case they were attacked. Yang touched Ember Cecelia with her prosthetic hand, flexing her fingers as she approached the door. Of course, there wasn't a peephole. The owner of the apartment would rather dance on coals then spent a single cent more than he had to.

 _I'm a happy criminal, eager to get my blood money,_  Yang thought bitterly.

It was time to play the part again for her new 'buddies'. Planting a smile on her face, Yang opened the door.

Her grin vanished in an instant. " _You!_ "

Mercury Black stared back at her, black eyes wide. Then he smirked, and Yang's fury spiked. "Well, well." He drawled. "If it isn't Yang Xiao-Long. What are you doing in this  _fine_  city?"

Yang's fingers locked around Mercury's collar and she dragged him through the doorway faster than her mind could catch up to her body. Her grey-haired 'friend' fell into the room, landing on the floor with an "Oof!" Nora shut the door behind him, locking it, and stood with Magnhild in its hammer form in front of the exit. Yang heard Weiss and Ruby talking over each other in her ear— they had heard her exclamation— but did not respond, focusing completely on her enemy. Mercury rolled himself over and sat up, lifting his head to meet furious blue eyes.

"You!" Jaune growled, copying the brawler.

Mercury smirked. "Me."

He lost his arrogant grin when four weapons were shoved in his face. Seeing he was outnumbered and on his back in the middle of the floor, he wisely raised his hands in surrender. Yang kept Ember Cecelia trained on him.

"Well, isn't this convenient." Yang said coldly. "We were just looking for your buddies." Jaune glanced her way, clearly worried, and she briefly considered her tone was bothering him. Then she thought about the situation again and cursed. "Did Roman send you?"

"Yes and no." Mercury said. He inched backwards when Jaune's sword inched towards his face. "He sent me with your paycheck but he didn't realize it was you, blondie. The first name in your little group is 'Nora Valkyrie'."

Nora grinned cheekily, bouncing Magnhild's handle in her other hand. "You should have looked closer, friend-o."

Mercury sneered at her. "Well I never expected  _old friends_  from Beacon to work for Tochwick." He said sarcastically. Black eyes flicked to Yang. "Especially not without your damn team. What, did they abandon you?"

Yang focused on breathing and succeeded in not punching his lights out. "None of your business. Where's Torchwick?"

Mercury tipped his head, raising an eyebrow. "You expect me to tell you?"

"If you know what's good for you." Yang threatened.

"Why? Will you shoot me in the stomach if I don't?" Mercury taunted.

Yang's fist clenched, shaking with rage and maybe something else. Ren grasped her arm and she calmed down, taking a breath.

"Thanks." She mumbled.

Ren nodded and released her.

Mercury watched the exchange in silence, a new smirk dancing at his lips. Then he shrugged carelessly. "Sure, I'll talk."

The four teens stared at him in silence.

" _It's a trick,"_  Qrow said in their ears.

 _No_ _ **duh**_ _,_  Yang thought.

"Really?" she said to Mercury. "I don't believe that for a second."

Mercury scoffed, completely unintimidated. "It's true. I'll tell you whatever. I don't give a damn about Roman. I'm just trying to make the best of my situation. I've been stuck with that asshole for months."

"Oh, poor you." Nora growled unsympathetically. "It's not like you can ditch your new 'boss' whenever you want."

Mercury barked a laugh, the sound grating and bitter. "Are you  _stupid_?"

Ren barely kept Nora from bringing her hammer down on his head.

Mercury's smile vanished and he leaned back onto his elbows, but continued speaking. "What do you expect me to do? Leave? Go home?  _Ha!_  Like Cinder's boss would let me live in peace if she finds out where I am. I've been lucky not to run into any cronies of theirs so far. At least this shitty city is good for hiding in."

"What do you know about Salem?" Jaune demanded.

"Is that the boss's name? Huh." Mercury blinked and shrugged. "Not a lot. Cinder wasn't exactly forthcoming about her plan. I do know she wasn't the head honcho." He tipped his head and something flickered through his expression too quick to identify. "I also know Jones was special somehow. Roman and Neo brought him with us for leverage against Cinder's boss." He sighed. "Pity he's dead."

Yang's fingernails dug into her palm. It was a struggle not to punch Mercury in the face. He probably brought up Alfred's death to get a rise out of them, the  _bastard_. She was unprepared for Jaune to grab Mercury by the front of his shirt and lift him off the ground, eyes burning with fury.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jaune snarled.

Yang jumped at near-feral tone of his voice, eying the knight warily. She knew that Kuroyuri was a touchy subject for him but that reaction was a bit extreme. Then she went over Mercury's words again and stiffened. "I thought you said you didn't have any contact with Salem's forces."

"I haven't." Mercury said easily.

Yang and Jaune exchanged a look. The knight's eyes thinned to slits. "Then how do you know Alfred died?"

Mercury grimaced, averting his gaze. If Yang did not know better, she'd swear he looked remorseful. "I guess you don't know who did it. Roman shot Alfred in the woods and left him to die."

"You  _shot_  him?" Nora snarled, raising her hammer.

Mercury shielded his face, hands up in a placating manner. " _Roman_  did. Right in the gut just like you did, Xiao Long."

Yang flinched, looking away as guilt churned her stomach. She dare not close her eyes, knowing she would see Alfred's beaten, limp body behind her eyelids, laying in Matthew's arms as blood pooled around him.

_I never got to say sorry._

Logic overcame to her emotions and she stiffened, going over Mercury's claims again. According to him, Alfred was shot in the abdomen in the middle of the woods. There was no way Alfred got himself to a hospital. There was also no way he could have survived that wound without one. And yet he had  _shown up in Kuroryuri_  no worse for wear… except Ruby had shakily mentioned all the blood on his shirt.

A chill went up Yang's spine _. Could his Semblance be regeneration or something? Or did Ironwood do some experiment on him that's responsible?_  She glared at Mercury. "Are you  _sure_  Alfred was—?"

" _Yang, that doesn't matter. Ask about Neo."_  Qrow commanded, almost like he wanted the subject to be changed.

No, not almost. Yang recognized his tone of voice. It was the tone he used whenever Ruby tried to ask about Summer or Team STRQ. Qrow  _did_  want the subject to be changed.

_They know something and aren't telling us._

Yang locked eyes with Jaune and saw the comprehension dawn on his face. She glanced away, keeping her discovery to herself. "We're not here about that. We need to find Neo. Is she still with Roman?"

Mercury nodded slowly. "Yeah, the imp's still there. She hasn't left his side."

"Can you take us to them?" Yang demanded.

Mercury smirked. "What's in it for me?"

"You don't get dragged out of the city and to my Uncle." Yang stated. "His name's Qrow Branwen. Maybe you've heard of him."

Mercury stiffened, unease flashing through his expression. Yang and her team would not interrogate him until he complied, but Qrow might. Her stomach cramped at the implications but she kept her discomfort off her face.

Mercury shrugged. "Give me a week. What do you want them for?"

"We're trying to save Neo's life." Yang said flatly.

Mercury laughed. His disbelieving cackles quickly drained away, leaving a dumfounded silence behind. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack." Yang said bitterly. "Tell Torchwick that unless he wants trouble from his former boss's boss, he needs to meet with us."

Mercury hesitated. "Roman doesn't like me. I'm just another lackey to him. But he does care about Neo. If  _she's_  in danger, he might listen."

"She is in a  _lot_  of danger." Jaune said gravely. "By extension, so is he."

Mercury nodded slowly. "Fine. If— what did you call her? 'Salem?'— If  _Salem's_  forces are snooping around, I don't want to be caught in the crossfire. Give me a few days to speak with Roman."

Yang smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

Mercury sneered. "Don't think this makes us friends. I'm trying to save my own skin."

Her fake smile vanished. "Oh, my heart is so broken." Yang said flatly.

Mercury scoffed and shoved an envelope at her. "Here's your damn pay."

He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Yang opened the envelope to see it was filled with lien for their services the night before. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes.  _This is my life now._

"That was too easy." Jaune said.

" _Most definitely."_  Qrow agreed.

" _Maybe Mercury really wants to help?"_  Ruby offered optimistically.

"Or he wants something from us." Nora pointed out.

Yang heard Qrow sigh.  _"I can't say what the case is but this is the best chance we got. That being said, be prepared for a trap."_

"Got it." Yang said. She heard a beep and frowned. "Listen, we're turning off the earrings for a bit. They need to recharge."

" _Call us if you need us."_  Ruby said quickly.

"We will." Yang replied.

" _Don't do anything stupid."_  Weiss warned.

"Yes, mom." Yang said dryly, ignoring her huff.

" _Be safe."_  Qrow said simply.

"We always are." Yang grunted.

If Qrow noticed her tone he did not mention it. She turned off the earring. Jaune, Nora, and Ren did the same. The four teens looked at each other in silence.

Jaune sat heavily on the couch, head in his hands. "They're hiding something from us.  _Again_."

"You noticed that too?" Nora asked, shoulders slumped. "I hoped I was imagining things."

"Qrow seemed quite eager to turn the subject away from Alfred." Ren commented neutrally.

"Yeah, because if Mercury is telling the truth, stuff doesn't make any sense." Yang growled. "If Roman shot Alfred, he wouldn't have made it to Kuroyuri. He was only saved last time—" She flinched but kept going. "—because of the hospital staff, and even then he still went into a coma."

"So… he survived on his own somehow?" Jaune asked.

"He had to." Yang shut her eyes. "If I remember right, Ruby mentioned he was covered in blood in Kuroyuri?"

Jaune winced. "Yeah. His shirt was stained. There was… a lot of it down his front." He shuddered. "I thought it was someone else's or from different periods of time but…"

"Could Ironwood have done something to him?" Nora dared to ask.

"If he did, Qrow and Ozpin probably know about it." Yang growled, eyes burning red.

They looked at each other uncomfortably, each thinking their own thoughts.

"I'm going to say it." Nora said flatly. "If Alfred survived getting shot by somehow healing on his own, he might have survived the explosion and walked away."

"And if Qrow knew about that possibility, he would definitely lie to keep Alfred's survival a secret." Jaune stated.

"You do realize we are taking the word of one of our enemies as fact." Ren said calmly.

"Why would Mercury lie like  _that_?" Yang demanded. "If he didn't know what happened to Alfred or simply left him in the woods somewhere, why come up with  _that_  story?"

Ren's pink eyes met hers, solemn and dark. "You do understand we are taking the word of one of our enemies as fact,  _thus questioning our allies_."

Yang flinched, inhaling through her nose. "It wouldn't be the first time." She said darkly. "They kept the existence of nations from us until they thought we should know. Who knows what else they've  _omitted_."

"What do we do with this?" Nora asked eventually.

Yang knew. She hated it. She despised it. She knew this was one of the ways her superiors danced around the facts they didn't want the younger generation to know. But she had to do the song and dance anyway.

"We complete the mission." Yang said. "Then we demand the truth."

XXXXXXX

"Hey, Mattie. I brought pancakes. There's Canadian maple syrup and everything!"

Canada did not return his brother's greeting, tucked safely under his comforter with the blanket nearly pulled over his head. He could hear the forced cheer in America's voice. He knew he was scaring his twin. But he could not change his attitude. He couldn't get up and smile and laugh and pretend everything was fine. Not just because he was a monster who couldn't do such things, but because of the chill— both literal and figurative— that was turning his core to ice.

He couldn't let his brother see.

He couldn't let his brother know Canada was dying.

He definitely did not want America to know he might deserve it for what he had done.

America— the stupid, sunny, wonderful fool— took a breath and stayed with his unresponsive, horrible, selfish twin when others would have walked out in frustration. "You have to get up today. You have your appointment." he said. "I do too. England doesn't want me to go because of the— because of things, but we might as well carpool and save some time, yeah?"

 _No. You can't be near me_ , Canada thought.  _I could hurt you._

Canada had an inkling how his Semblance worked now. Touch and a command were all it took to erase whatever memories he wished. But now his touch was growing colder as well, his skin icy and chilled even to himself. He said nothing. He did not give any indication of those thoughts. Nor did he claim that he could barely think about breathing, let alone getting out of bed. The blankets allowed him to be as close to warm as he could be lately. Mantle's deadly chill was growing stronger, slowly suffocating him, and sometimes Canada swore he could feel ice and snow filling his lungs and smothering him.

"Mattie, please. Just tell me what's wrong." America begged, sounding close to tears again.

Canada abruptly got up and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and turning on the shower. As he stood under the water, it was ice cold, even when he had it on the highest possible heat setting. The chill sank into his bones and his teeth chattered, gooseflesh appearing on his skin as his breath puffed visibly in the air in front of him. The water stopped abruptly and he realized he had frozen it. It descended from the showerhead like thin icicles. He hastily got out and shut the curtain, praying it would melt before someone else saw.

_Was that Mantle's Semblance or…?_

Canada's teeth chattered as he dried himself off. He glanced at the mirror and froze. Was it just the lighting or were his lips tinged blue? He glanced at his fingertips and saw they were slightly purplish as well. A small, hoarse sound made him jump and it took him a moment to realize it had come from his own throat. He clamped his mouth shut, shuddering in the cold.

 _It's just his ice Semblance,_  he tried to tell himself.  _Or it's because I'm dep—… sad_.  _It's not because I'm d— It's not because Mantle is dying and freezing to death. It's_ _ **not**_ _._

Canada put on a sweatshirt that was far too big for him. It covered his hands, but that was the point. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he just looked tired and pale. That was fine. Tired and pale was fine. It was better than looking tired and pale and  _dying_ —

America knocked on the door. "Mattie? We have to go soon."

Canada exited the bathroom and brushed past his twin, making sure not to touch him. What if he was so cold things would freeze through contact? His heart dropped into his stomach at the thought so he gave America a wide berth, sitting down on his bed and eating a couple pieces of pancake so his twin wouldn't comment. It tasted like ashy snow. Canada choked it down and set the plate on the bedside table.

America was forcing himself to smile again. Canada could tell because of the suspicious shininess of his eyes. "Ready to go?"

Canada nodded and followed him out, eyes on the floor. Something entered his personal space and he flinched, backing away. France froze mid-step, arms still raised for a hug, and he let them fall limply at his sides. Canada saw hurt flash through his expression before he forced his gaze to drop to the floor.

_You can't touch me. I'm dangerous._

"I will see you when you return, Matthieu." France said shakily.

Canada struggled against the guilt at his tone. He knew France thought  _he_  had done something wrong, when it was  _Canada_  who had hurt  _him_. Revealing that would reveal the truth of what happened, and Canada couldn't do that. Not now, not ever.

 _It's not like I'll have to worry about my Semblance much longer._ Canada bit his tongue and blinked rapidly, struggling not to burst into childish tears again. He tuned in to the happenings of the world around him and realized he had missed England's arrival and part of a conversation.

"—be fine." America was saying to the British man. "Besides, Pyrrha's going with me. She won't let anything happen."

"No offense to Ms. Nikos, but she cannot defend you from everything." England said brusquely.

"No offense taken." Pyrrha said pleasantly.

"I'm not going to hide in the house for the rest of my life." America interjected stubbornly. He stomped to the front door. "Come on, Mattie."

Canada followed him outside, wondering what he had missed. He supposed it did not matter. If he didn't like it he'd just delete it from his own mind, or the minds of others because that was what his soul decided his powers should be—

Canada sat in the backseat and buckled up, leaning his head against the window. America hesitated but let Pyrrha drive, striking up a conversation about a sandwich shop they should try on the way back. Their words became indecipherable babble in the background and Canada drifted, trying and failing to get comfortable and ease the icy shocks of pain in his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mantle's snowy, desolate streets.

He returned to his body to see they had arrived at the office and America was outside his door, eying him worriedly. Canada got out without a word, making sure not to brush against his brother, and walked into the office.

Whitman took him in immediately. Canada did not shake his offered hand or greet him. He sat on the couch and stared out the window, ignoring Whitman's attempts to pull him into a conversation.

Eventually, the therapist got the hint and went quiet, though Canada could feel his eyes on him, studying him. He did not care. He had to carry this burden on his own. If he told Whitman, the man would tell Canada's government their personification was dying. That would probably lead to a war between Earth and Remnant. Canada may be leaving this world, but he didn't want it to fall into chaos because of him. He'd already done enough damage to the ones he loved.

Canada did not say a single word the entire session.

XXXXXXX

"When I first heard about these appointments, I thought  _I_  was going to be the stubbornly silent one." America said, struggling to smile.

David had not told him anything about Canada's session, but America could tell his brother had not revealed his woes to the therapist. Mattie was as quiet as he had been when he entered, sitting in the corner seat of the waiting room next to Pyrrha and staring at his hands. His silence reminded America of  _something_  but the memories refused to return. Or maybe his mind did not let them, unwilling to recall why Canada's continued silence bothered him so greatly.

"Circumstances can change." Davis said as he ushered America into the room.

Alfred hesitated next to the couch, glancing back towards the waiting room. "Maybe if he takes my spot and has more time he'll open up. He probably needs you more than me and—"

"No, Alfred." David said firmly. "This appointment is for you. Your brother will open up in time."

"I guess." America reluctantly sat down on the couch, wiggling his foot.

David settled in his chair. "Did you write in the journal?"

America glanced at the black book in his hands. "Not about feelings or anything. Just little bits about my… housemates. And I doodled a bit."

"May I see?" David requested.

America shyly opened the journal, revealing his sketches and notes. David blinked, staring at the pictures, and looked up at America.

"Are these…  _weapons_  that  _transform_?" he asked.

"Yes." America admitted, wetting his lips nervously. "You were probably expecting me to draw flowers or something, haha…"

In hindsight, maybe showing his therapist the drawings was a bad idea. Drawing detailed tools for battle couldn't be a sign of good health, right? Yet doing so had helped America. His thoughts drifted back to the memory he had regained while sketching the weapons.

_America eyed his favorite prison warden warily. He wasn't being sarcastic. Ironwood really was one of the nicest out of the people at the lab, the doctor notwithstanding. Especially when compared to that bitch Ciel Soleil that showed up from time to time. She was young, looking about eighteen years old, and definitely shouldn't be allowed in such a secret facility yet, but she always showed up from time to time to look down her nose at the 'Subjects'._

_Basically, Ironwood was not as cold as the others. And so far, he had kept his promise that Canada would not be subjected to vivisection. Both twins still took part in the fights against Grimm and other tests, but nothing as invasive as that first time America was strapped to an operating table. Although the threat was still there and his 'deal' hung over his head, America still could not resist the occasional noncompliance, taking every opportunity to tell their captors just how big of assholes they were._

_Still, just because America hated Ironwood less than the others didn't mean he trusted the guy. And the General's offer had to have a billion strings attached._

" _Why would you want to give us IDs and let us create weapons?" America asked slowly. "What, are you planning to erase our memories and dump us in the middle of the woods?"_

_At this point, that option was preferable. The scientist who cut America open was starting to eye him hungrily again, face glowing like a child's on Christmas whenever he was allowed to see just how quickly small wounds would heal. The man was obviously gnawing at the bit to test the extent of America's regeneration once more, and if anyone was going to take the nation up on his offer of organs it would be him. America shoved such thoughts away, focusing on the present._

" _Of course not." Ironwood said calmly, now used to the blue-eyed nation's scathing remarks. "It would simply prove to be more effective if you had personalized weapons that transformed."_

_America had seen a few of Remnant's weapons before. He had to admit that a weapon that transformed from a sword to a gun and back sounded pretty sweet. But that didn't mean he was glad he could design and make ones for himself and Canada._

Unless… We can use them to escape.

_America looked at Canada._

_His brother's violet eyes were less tired and scared then before. He had grown used to their lives in the lab. But that did not mean he had grown compliant. Constantly fighting Grimm and going through other tests had ironically made his brother tougher instead of meeker, perhaps bringing out all the negativity and anger the quiet nation used to hide deep inside his heart. Or maybe it was America's deal that broke the camel's back, bringing out Canada's desire to stand firmer against their captors for both himself and his 'stupid, self-sacrificing' brother._

_Here, Canada was noticed. Here, he was just as important as America. Here, he was not something that could simply be ignored like he so constantly was back on Earth._

_And America could tell he despised it._

_Canada wanted to fight for his freedom as badly as his brother did._

_Decision made, America turned to Ironwood and gave him a double thumbs up and a Hollywood grin. "We'd love weapons. It'll be awesome!"_

_He designed and forged the weapons himself under the watchful eyes of human and robotic soldiers. It took a few days, and he could feel their impatience, but America was not about to give himself and Mattie defective weapons that would backfire. He worked for hours, only given breaks when he was needed for other tests, and although his exhaustion mounted he kept working, refusing to show how tired he was._

_It reminded him of the times when he had been bad-off and at his poorest in the past, forced to work in smoke-filled factories for eighty-hour weeks in order to avoid being fired and thrown onto the street. At least the air was cleaner here, and the company was tolerable. Surprisingly, the doctor accompanied him to the forge every day, getting him parts and giving advice when he was stuck._

" _I thought you were a medical doctor." America commented as he worked on his weapon's transforming mechanism. It kept sticking halfway through bat-to-shotgun mode, and he guessed a few screws were too tight. He picked up a screwdriver, feeling the guards follow his every move as they silently dared him to try to use anything as a weapon against them. America wouldn't try. He would bide his time. Canada wasn't in terrible danger so there was no rush to escape._

" _I am." The doctor assured him. "But in my… line of work, I needed to be more. I started as a simple scientist, you know, but as time passed I expanded my knowledge."_

" _What did you learn?" America asked curiously._

_The doctor opened his mouth but paused. "I'm afraid I have been ordered not to tell you, for it relates to why you are here. I can, however say that I am also a roboticist."_

If he can tell us that I guess they're not trying to turn us into cyborgs then. Phew. _"Did you create these guys?" America asked, jabbing a thumb at the Atlesian Knights standing guard. One robot's head swiveled towards him, its gun raising slightly, and America put his hands up. "I'm just moving, jeez!"_

_The robot's gun remained leveled at his heart._

" _Stand down." The doctor ordered._

_The robot's gun swiveled towards the doctor. The human soldiers did nothing to stop it, merely watching the situation from the sidelines. America stepped between the old man and the weapon, tensing as the robot marched forward. A gun was pressed to his chest but America did not flinch. Instead he_ _**slowly** _ _put his hand on the robot's shoulder, prepared to shove it back if it tried to shoot. He would be fine but he wouldn't let the doctor get hurt in the crossfire._

" _Don't shoot, Skynet." America said tersely. "He's on your side, remember?"_

_The robot lowered its gun and returned to its guard position like nothing had happened, and America relaxed. The human soldiers ignored his underlying insult, remaining in place as if the robot had not been about to shoot one of their own._

" _You okay, dude?" America asked, stamping on the anger burning like coals in his chest. It flared back up when he was the only one to inquire about the doctor's health._

" _I am fine. Thank you." The doctor breathed shakily. "And yes, I did create them. Though I do not have much control over them anymore. They are the military's now." He grimaced. "I'm afraid that is the price I paid in exchange for grants for my research."_

" _Do you regret it?" America asked hesitantly._

_The doctor shook his head. "Never."_

_He did not expand on his thoughts and America did not ask. He knew the man had been ordered to keep silent by his superiors, unable to even offer his name to the nation. America kind of understood. The only names he knew were Ironwood and Soleil's— and the latter was only because Ironwood had called her that. If America were more vengeful, he might want to hunt down every bastard that took part in this project but he didn't want vengeance. He wanted to escape with his brother and go home._

_Maybe these weapons would help with that. America clicked the final piece into place and twisted the blue baseball bat. It folded in on itself, becoming a shotgun. He twisted it back and then once more, grinning as a bayonet shot from its tip. The guards trained their guns on him but America ignored them, gazing at his work solemnly._

_The doctor smiled, his face tinged with sadness. "It appears they are ready."_

_America gently set the weapon down. "Yeah."_

_The soldiers did not wait a second to grab, blindfold, and cuff him for transfer back to his cell. The twins were not given time to practice using their new weapons. The next day, they were thrown directly into combat with the Grimm. They tore through the Beowolves and Ursa the scientists threw at them with ease, and although America basked in his technological success, he could not help but feel this was exactly what their captors wanted._

"Who are these weapons for?" David questioned, bringing America back to the present.

"Some of the nations." America admitted. "Feliciano— North Italy— tried to fight some Grimm in the hologram room Tony and I created. I just kept thinking about how it would be easier if he had a transforming weapon and…" he gestured vaguely at the sketches.

"Do you intend to build them?" David questioned.

"Maybe. Should I?" America asked.

David tapped his clipboard with his pen. "If forging them is something you think you will enjoy, yes. I do not see a need for such weapons but there is no harm in making them." He raised an eyebrow. "I have never heard of a 'hologram room' before, so I know this technology will not be sent to the public."

America smiled sheepishly.

David flipped to another page. "Some of these combinations are quite creative. And I see they are labeled for a specific nation. How did you come up with them?"

"I just drew what felt  _right_  for them." America tried to explain. "I don't know all of their preferences, but I did some research for weapons from their countries and drew what I felt would fit. Not for all of them, mind you, but some of them."

"You drew these because Feliciano would have benefitted from having such a tool?" David questioned for clarification.

"Yes." America said.

David smiled. "So you drafted these blueprints because you want them to be protected from harm."

"I—" America had not considered it that way. He shut his jaw and slouched slightly on the couch. "Huh. I guess."

David flipped to the first empty page and his head tipped slightly. "I do not see a design for Arthur here."

America winced. "He doesn't need one. He has a staff."

"He does not need your protection?" David questioned.

"No. I'd provide it, of course." America said in a rush. He scowled at the wall. "But I don't think he'd accept it."

"What do you mean?" David asked. "Has he rejected you again?"

"No." America denied uncomfortably. "Well, not really. Not like that. He's avoiding me, but not because of Vale." He grabbed the blue basketball and tossed it from hand to hand. "England keeps going from overprotective to avoiding me at the flip of a hat." he grumbled. "He just found out about— …about some stuff, and now he's locked himself in his room again. He won't even let me help!"

"What has he discovered?" David questioned.

America stopped tossing the ball, gripping it in both hands. "You  _promise_  you won't share any of this with anyone?" he requested.

"Nothing leaves this room unless you or someone else is in danger." David promised.

America's stomach twisted. "I'm not in  _danger_ , per se…"

David's eyes grew sharp. "Alfred?"

"I'm  _not_." America objected. "The nations are handling it."

David leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly. "You've worried me, Alfred. Please tell me what's going on."

America winced. "England received a bunch of pictures of me from whenever I was out and about. Now he's freaking out and not letting me help with the investigation."

"You're being  _followed_?" David asked sharply.

America cringed. "I don't know. It could be another nation messing with me. But like I said, the nations are investigating it."

David stood up. "I need to inform your boss."

"No!" America launched to his feet, grabbing the therapist's arm. "You  _promised_ , dude."

"Alfred, if you are being followed this is a matter of national security." David said sharply.

America was brutally reminded of the fact that, at the end of the day, the therapist was a government agent monitoring the mental health of his nation. His lungs constricted around his heart and his breathing grew rapid.

"You can't." he pleaded. "Please, you can't! I  _can't_  be trapped again."

David stiffened. "You won't be—"

"They'll send guards." America begged, voice wheezy as it struggled to leave his constricted throat. "They'll watch my every move, and say I can't go places, and they'll always be there with guns just like the  _lab_."

David was quiet for a time. "What do you think you would do if you had agents around?"

"Flashback and freak out." America admitted shakily. "I know they wouldn't be dressed like  _them_  but they'll always be  _watching_." He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.

David grimaced. "I will not inform your boss about this development—" He held up a finger to stall any comments when America looked at him. "—unless the situation becomes more dangerous. Promise me you will inform me if that happens, Alfred."

"I promise." America said.

"Very well." David said, but Alfred could hear his reluctance. He sat down again and clicked his pen. "England's distance hurts you. How do you feel about his overprotectiveness?"

America relaxed, glad they were moving to 'safer' topics. "It's weird. I want that protection but I still feel stifled, you know? I want to be independent but… I like thinking they have my back."

"'Thinking'? Not knowing?" David commented.

America winced and put an arm over his eyes. He considered his options. He could change the subject and keep everything bottled up… or he could give the man who was already toeing the line for him the truth he had not even told Canada.

America swallowed. "When… I first woke up, I didn't remember anything. There were three… people with me. They were my enemies." A pit opened up in his stomach. "They told me they were my  _friends_."

There was a slight creak as David's hand clenched around his notebook.

"I didn't know any better. I trusted them blindly. But one night, I remembered one of them was my enemy. They found out." America shuddered, blinking his stinging eyes. "My ' _friends_ '… beat me up, shot me, and left me to die. I  _would_  have died if I wasn't a nation of Earth. While they were doing it, they taunted me about how I was just a prize to be passed around, used, and thrown away. After that, a bandit came and tried to 'hire' me for her clan. She 'killed' me when I said no. Then I was captured by two other enemies that were hunting me. And then I remembered Arthur's actions during one of our wars. He pointed a gun at me." America pressed his lips together to hold back a sob. "I thought I could trust them and they  _hurt me_."

"I see. So even now, you are afraid to trust anyone again." David guessed quietly.

America nodded. "I'm  _waiting_  for the betrayals." He admitted. "I'm  _waiting_  for them to stab me in the back and reveal they were using me before leaving me to  _die in a ditch_." He laughed bitterly. "I can't read minds. I can't say if their intentions are genuine or not. I can't even remember our former relationships. They could hate me and only be pretending to like me to try to manipulate and use me."  _Just like everyone else._

"Is there anyone you trust unconditionally?" David asked.

"Mattie, Pyrrha, and Tony." America admitted. "Kiku is as close as it gets."

"Kiku is Japan, correct?" At America's nod, David sighed. "Your history has not always been pleasant. But you have spoken of him before. Your bond is unbreakable now."

America's nausea receded slightly. "That's one more person, then. Is there… anyone else?"

"I cannot say." David said. "It would be best for you to discover this on your own."

"But what if—" America bit his lip but pressed on. "What if I do, and they end up betraying me?" It wasn't physical harm he feared, not really, but the emotional cracks the betrayals would leave behind on his already shattered heart.

"You survive." David stated. "And remember your true friends. If their intention is to hurt or manipulate you, the best thing you can do is move on. Those types of people like to leave an impact on those they have hurt, but if you persevere and see they are nothing but scum, you have won."

"You make it sound so easy." America said.

"It isn't." David warned. "But even if you cannot let that trauma go, that does  _not_  make you weak. It does  _not_  mean you have lost. You can still survive, heal, and live. You don't need to close yourself off from people."

America frowned down at the basketball. Emotions balled up like tangled yarn in his gut and he sighed, exhaustion sweeping through him as sorrow drained away. David noticed his tiredness and set his clipboard down.

"I think that is enough for today. If you are willing, I have another assignment for you to complete before your next session." At America's weary nod, he continued. "Learn one new thing about each of your housemates and write it down."

America grimaced. "Do I have to?"

"No. But I think it may help you." David said gently.

America sighed, nodding his head. He closed his eyes, remembering  _pain and betrayal and blood—_  "I'll try."

David seemed satisfied with his answer. "That is all I ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys are okay with my minimal OCs. I need to use them. I'm sorry! XD


	20. Handling

America squinted at the brightly-colored matter in the vial, tilting it slightly and watching its contents shift in response. "This isn't about to blow up in my face, right?" he asked casually.

"No." Tony scoffed. "It was easy enough to stabilize the samples you gave me, and even easier to replicate that stabilization for the created sample."

America held up another vial, looking at the two and comparing them. "Which one is the real Dust?"

"The one in your left hand." Tony said simply. "The one in your right was created in my lab."

America held them right next to each other in one hand, watching the yellow lightning Dust sparkle slightly. "Have you tested them?"

"Would I show you before I did?" Tony asked coolly.

"I guess not." His agitated tone failed to curb America's enthusiasm. "Dude, if we can keep synthesizing this we might have a new  _energy source_. Goodbye fossil fuels, hello electric Dust!"

"It would take a while to transition to this, but I suppose you're right." Tony said, disinterested.

America slung an arm over his shoulders. "Tony, you just solved the world's power problem. Show some enthusiasm! Be happy!"

"The Dust can also still be used for weapons." Tony said flatly.

America's smile faded and he winced. "Oh. Yeah. Earth likes to fight itself. Right."

He kept forgetting that this world was not nearly as united as Remnant. Though even Remnant was more volatile and against itself these days, thanks to the fall of Beacon.

America barely cringed when the Dragon's claws tore through his heart, only showing his pain with a light hiss. It was only because he was braced against pain that the sudden flare in his ankle did not send him crashing to the ground.  _A smaller town had just been overrun by Grimm_. He'd  _felt_  it. That probably wasn't good.

"…But I'm sure I can make adjustments to the electricity-based Dust and make that impossible." Tony said gruffly.

He'd apparently noticed America's falling mood. The nation hugged his alien friend. "That would be awesome, Tony. You're the best!"

"Better than the limey bastard?" Tony said hopefully.

"Maybe." America teased. He sat in one of the chairs in the lab, spinning it so he could lean his chin on its back. "How's the shield coming along?"

"Slowly. There are parts I cannot complete without him but the limey bastard keeps getting distracted." Tony huffed.

"By the investigation, right?" America asked guiltily.

He knew England was in his room and spending time on that dumb laptop of his. America could probably track the sender of the pictures in a snap but wasn't sure how to breach the topic with his brother. He couldn't just walk up to him and go "Hey, I have a Technopathy Semblance. Gimmee." Well, he  _could_  but England might freak out. Semblances were a thing from Remnant, and  _maybe_  Alfred was beginning to admit he  _might_  be scared England would reject him if he showed any more Remnant-based abilities.

…Okay, he was  _definitely_  scared of England rejecting him if he told him about his Semblance. There. He stopped denying it to himself.

Damn it, that last bit sounded like David.

America shook himself and put the vials back in their slots. "Thanks for showing me this, Tony. Maybe I can convince England to move his butt in exchange."

"Please do." Tony grunted. "I can't have him getting distracted anymore. I've been able to complete two of your projects faster than one of his because he's dragging his ass."

America snorted, covering his mouth. "I'll tell him you said that."

A muffled "Do it!" followed him out as he headed towards the bedrooms. He paused outside Canada's closed door, dithering for a moment and debating checking up on his bro. Canada's mood still had not improved, and he still refused to talk. Going in was probably not going to change anything. Swallowing the bitter taste of failure, America moved on to England's room. The doorway was open, and England sat at his desk, his magic book on his lap and the laptop computer on as he spoke into his phone.

"—the problem. The ritual is quite complex, as you understand. That's why I'm calling you. I need your help completing it." England paused and his expression grew cold. "I'm going to ignore that, thank you." He hissed. "I would  _never_  harm a nation like that and I am  _insulted_  you would  _ever suggest that I would!_ " His voice became a shout and America flinched, smacking into the doorframe and making the hinges squeak.

England's eyes snapped to him and softened. "America. Come in. I am merely speaking with Norway and Romania."

America made note of the names as he stepped into the room. He hesitated briefly and leaned over near the phone. "HI GUYS!"

England swore and dropped the phone. America picked it up and heard chuckles from the other end.

" _Was that America?"_  an unfamiliar voice asked.

"The one and only." America said happily.

England tried to snatch the phone from him and America giggled, immaturely holding it out of reach.

"Alfred! Give it." England commanded.

"Am I your brother or a dog, Arthur?" America asked, amused.

"You're a  _git_ , that's what you are." England growled.

"And you're a workaholic whose been workaholic-ing on too many things. Tony's getting annoyed." America said plainly.

England scowled. "I've been busy."

"Duh. That's what 'workaholic' implies." America stated. He held the phone to his ear. "So. What's England want with you guys?"

One of the nations— was it Norway or Romania?— laughed.  _"Well—"_

England jabbed America in the side, making him squeak and grabbed the phone from him. "Don't talk to them,  _idiot_." He hissed. "They  _don't_  know about you."

America's smile faltered. "…Sorry."

England sighed. "No,  _I'm_  sorry. And if you must know, I'm calling about your…" He eyed the phone suspiciously. "… _heartburn_. Norway and Romania are magic-users as well, and I need their help figuring out the ritual to get rid of it."

America blinked, eyes growing round with comprehension. The Dragon's presence sent a lance of pain through his chest and he hesitated briefly.  _I can trust my brother's judgement._  "You can tell them about Vale."

England nearly dropped the phone again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." America decided. "If it'll help you convince them, you can tell them."

England smiled gently and reached out, ruffling America's hair. "Thank you." His expression grew sharp and he spoke into the phone in a clipped voice. "Listen, you two. America was abducted by another world and they forced the soul of a dying nation inside him. The union gave him amnesia and America now feels the pain from constant attacks on that nation. All I want to do is stop him from feeling that pain.  _Do you understand?_ "

America could not hear the other magical nations' responses. Whatever they were, England's expression darkened. "Fine." He held out the phone. "Norway wants to talk to you."

America nervously accepted the device and put it to his ear. "Hi, Norway."

" _Hello."_  A level, calm voice said.  _"You heard England's explanation?"_

"Yeah."

" _What has he told you about the ritual?"_  Norway questioned.

"Only that it's supposed to help me stop feeling Vale— the other nation's— pain." America admitted.

Norway hummed vaguely.  _"The ritual is quite dangerous."_ He said bluntly.  _"And very specific. It can only be used once. I suppose that is a good thing."_

 _Why would stopping a nation from feeling pain when their country is attacked be considered bad?_ America thought. He immediately realized that pain would let them know something was wrong with their nation.  _Ah. It could be a problem if you took that away._  "Yeah, I guess so. But… this pain." He winced, grabbing his chest. "It's almost constant. And I think it's getting worse. I'm starting to get shocks from smaller towns that are getting attacked."

"Why didn't you  _say_  anything?" England demanded.

"I swear it just started happening." America said weakly, wiping sweat from his brow.

He shooed England's hand away before it could touch his forehead. He could hear Norway and the other nation— Romania?— murmuring to each other on the other end of the line, their voices slightly buzzy through the speakers.

" _America? Are you still there?"_  Norway asked.

"Yes."

" _The ritual will be painful."_  The other nation warned. America really wished he remembered his face so he could picture his expression.  _"More painful than anything you've ever felt."_

"I don't know about that. I've felt some pretty bad stuff." America thought, thinking back to his numerus injuries which included getting shot, a slashed throat, and being vivisected and practically tortured. He grimaced.

" _Not like this."_  Norway said gravely.  _"Severing the connection will hurt your very soul."_

America blinked. "What connection?"

"He's talking about the connection with Vale's land that is causing you pain." England explained calmly.

" _The connection with—"_

"Never mind, England told me." America interrupted as Norway began to speak.

" _And you're okay with that?"_  Norway asked.

"Will it end up hurting my people?" America asked seriously.

" _No. Your Americans will be fine."_  Norway replied.

America relaxed, reassured. "Then I'll do it. You guys figure out the preparations. If you want to help, that is." He added in a rush.

" _We do."_  Norway promised.  _"We'll have England explain the whole situation to us first."_

America glanced at Arthur. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes." He grumbled. "Give me the phone so I can talk, please."

"Sure." America hesitated. "And while you're doing that, let me help with the investigation." He nodded at the laptop.

England scowled. "That isn't necessary."

America gritted his teeth. "I don't care. I'm the one being stalked so let me help find the jerk!"

" _You're being_ _ **stalked**_ _?"_  Norway asked, surprise seeping into his voice.

 _So he heard that. Oops._  "Ummmm. Talk to England." America muttered and shoved the phone at his brother.

England glowered at him, holding the device near his ear. "Hold on a second." He lowered the phone and pressed it to his chest. "I don't see how you can do this any quicker than me. I'm the spy, not you—"

"I have a technology Semblance, okay?" America said testily.

England stared at him. His thunderstruck expression might have made America laugh once. Now he watched his brother warily, already building up walls so he hopefully wouldn't cry if England's shock transformed into disgust. His brother bit his cheek but nodded.

"Here." He grumbled, shoving the laptop at America. "If you'd told me sooner, we could have found this bastard already."

Despite his grumpy tone, America smiled, his fear washing away. "Thanks."

He opened up the email and put a hand on the computer, gazing at it. The photographer's information was in there somewhere. If not in the email, then in his computer. If not in his computer, than another one he used from the same provider. If he redirected his signal to a different part of the world, well America would just have to track him. He began typing, eyes glazed, and barely paying attention as England explained the Remnant situation to Norway and Romania in hushed tones.

It took a while. The path sent America bouncing from continent to continent, but he passed through firewalls like they weren't even there, mind becoming a haze of numbers and information. Eventually, he caught the source of the photos, his screen lighting up with lines of data. He shivered, ignoring the pulsing behind his eyes, and grinned wickedly.

"I got it." America said.

"Norway, I will call you again later." England said hurriedly. "Goodbye." He hung up and looked expectantly at America.

"The computer belongs to a 'Russet Greenlee'. He lives near Upstate New York. It says here he's American." Alfred's grin vanished. "He isn't."

England did not ask how he knew. "I think we need to pay Russet Greenlee a visit." he snarled.

America nodded, humming. "…Is it just me or does Russet Greenlee sound like a Remnant name?"

"It could be an Earth name." England denied stiffly.

"Or a Remnant name." America insisted. A thought struck him. "How long has your portal-sensing tech been up?"

"A few months." England answered warily. "We implemented it a couple months after your abduction."

"So someone from Remnant could have shown up before that." America stated.

England considered that, expression twitching between annoyance and relief. America understood. If he was right about this, then the threat might not be as bad as they feared. There were no new portals since they returned and no one on Earth was singling out the American personification. But it could also mean someone from Remnant— specifically from Atlas— was active and on Earth, and potentially in contact with people back home.

_Like Ironwood or their personification. Or maybe even that one evil scientist guy._

America shivered and distracted himself. "So Norway and Romania are friends you can talk magic with, huh?"

"Yes." England grunted.

America paused. "…Does Canada have a friend like that? One he can talk about anything with?"

"Other than you?" He did not appear to notice America's smile. "I think Cuba is the one he is closest to. Why?"

"I have to do something before we leave." America said quickly. "You gather the others."

"Don't order me—"

America shut the bedroom door, cutting off England's retort. He walked down the hall confidently, only to falter. He didn't know Cuba's number. He did not even know his human name or what he looked like or what country he was. America gritted his teeth and glared at his phone. The information he needed was probably in Canada's contacts but then he'd have to go into his twin's room and look—

America nearly smacked himself.  _Or I could just pick the info out of his phone._ America grabbed his own phone and did just that, ignoring the painful twinge behind his eyes.  _That's enough of that for today. Owwww._

He hesitated, finger hovering over the button that would connect the call to his target. He had no idea what his relationship with Cuba was like. The guy could love him or hate his guts, and if this conversation went the wrong way he could easily find out about America's amnesiac state.

 _I don't care. Mattie is worth the risk._  He pressed send.

The phone rang a few times before the call was answered.  _"Hola?"_

America cleared his throat. "Hi, Cuba."

" _What the hell do you want?"_  Cuba asked rudely.

 _I don't think he likes me_ , America noted dryly. "I need your help."

" _No."_  There was a click but the call stayed connected. Cuba cursed.  _"Why isn't this hanging up?"_

"Because I'm not done talking to you." America said truthfully. "I don't know why you don't like me. I don't care. You are my brother's best friend and  _he_  needs your help."

" _What do you mean you don't know why—?"_  Cuba paused.  _"…What's wrong with Canada?"_

"He's depressed, barely eats, never leaves his room or his bed, and  _I don't know what's wrong!_ " America did not mean to shout by the end but he did anyway. He winced and lowered his voice. "Please, can you come and try to talk to him? Maybe he'll open up to you.  _Please_."

There was silence on the other end. America glared at his phone. If Cuba had walked away from it America was going to make his life living hell. He'd keep sending messages, he'd hack his computer, he'd figure out a way to make the damn  _toaster_  stop working if that bastard just turned away after America said Mattie needed him—

" _I never thought I'd hear you beg me for something, you ass."_  Cuba growled. His voice softened.  _"But I guess you're brother's the magical exception. I'll be on the next flight to your shitty States."_

America smiled. "Thanks."

" _Asshole."_  Cuba muttered and hung up.

America slipped his phone into his pocket, lips twitching into a smile. He hoped Canada's friend could help him when his brothers could not. For now, that problem was out of his hands. His smiled vanished and he went to find Pyrrha.

XXXXXXX

_Blake sat under the star-filled sky, gazing up at the shattered moon. She shivered, her shirt doing nothing against the biting cold, and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm them. A black coat dropped over her shoulders and she jumped, reaching for her weapon._

" _Easy there, Blake." Adam said dryly._

_Blake hastily put Gambol Shroud back down and avoided his masked eyes. "Sorry."_

" _It's fine. I apologize for disturbing your solitude." He said. "Can I sit here too?"_

" _Of course." Blake said quickly._

_Adam sat down, balancing his arms on his bent knees. They sat in silence, looking at the stars._

_The bull Faunus was the one to break the peaceful quiet. "What's bothering you?"_

" _Nothing." Blake claimed._

 _Adam stared at her, somehow conveying how unimpressed he was with her reply_ _**through** _ _his mask. "You only retreat like this when you are upset. Please, tell me what's wrong."_

_Blake brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling her cat ears twitch and droop. "I was just… thinking about my parents again."_

" _You should speak with them." Adam encouraged._

 _Blake's ears flattened against her head. "I can't. Not until I'm proven right about our fight." Her fingers dug into her pants, crinkling the black cloth. "They_ _**left** _ _us. I won't go to them until we've won."_

_Adam grimaced but did not press the issue. "If you insist."_

" _What about you?" Blake asked, eager to change the subject. "Or did you just come out here for the view?"_

" _The view_ _ **is**_ _nice." Adam said solemnly._

_Blake rolled her eyes. "Sure."_

_Adam sighed, and his posture slumped slightly. "My responsibilities have been wearing down on me lately." He admitted after a pause._

_Blake's expression softened. "You_ _**are** _ _the youngest Commander in the White Fang."_

_Adam shifted uncomfortably, like he always did whenever she mentioned his rank. She guessed he was embarrassed by his accomplishments. He never did like to talk about his position. "Yes. I guess I have a lot of responsibility for someone my age." He gripped his sword-hilt tightly. "But all of this will be worth it when the Faunus are finally treated equally with humans."_

_Blake considered his words carefully. "You know, you sound as if the weight of the Faunus' fate is on your shoulders sometimes."_

" _It is." Adam murmured and winced. "As a Commander of the White Fang, it's my duty to make the world a nicer place for the Faunus of Menagerie."_

" _And everywhere else." Blake added._

_Adam nodded. "That's the plan." He gazed at the moon, profile so solemn and calm in the moonlight that Blake dare not break his vigil. "There are people out there I have to meet." He murmured. " I can… feel them." He reached out a hand as if he could touch the ones he sought right then, before letting it drop to his side. "When we finally cross paths, we're going to change the world for the better." He smiled, just a little twitch of his lips. "And I'm going to meet one such person in my next mission."_

" _Really?" Blake gasped. "When do we leave?"_

 _Adam chuckled. "Sorry, Blake but you're not coming this time. I'm just taking a small group of White Fang. Mostly older members." He exhaled, breath puffing in the cold air. "This meeting is important._ _**Very** _ _important. It could be world-changing. Sienna should be there. She is our leader but… she refuses to go."_

" _Why?" Blake asked worriedly._

" _She believes it might be a trap." Adam admitted. "The meeting is with Atlas, and you know how they feel about the Faunus."_

_Blake winced. They all knew how terrible Mantle was in particular. "Which Atlas officials are you meeting with? Do you know?"_

_Adam opened his mouth, hesitating for a brief second. "I don't know all their names."_

_Blake ducked her head. "You can't tell me. I understand."_

_Adam nodded in thanks and looked back at the moon. Sitting like he did, Blake swore he looked otherworldly, more than Faunus and human. But he was simply a Faunus, just like her and just like all the members of the White Fang and the people on Menagerie. The world_ _**would** _ _accept them someday._

_The wind whispered around them, blowing a few stray leaves along the floor, and Blake closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest._

" _We're so close, Blake." Adam murmured. "We're so_ _ **close**_ _to our goal. This mission is going to be the catalyst to change it all. I can feel it."_

"Blake?"

She snapped awake, reaching for her weapon, but relaxed upon spotting Sun.

The monkey Faunus raised his hands and skipped back a step. "Please don't slap me again."

Blake winced and sheathed her weapon. "I'm sorry about that. My actions were uncalled for."

"Hey, it's no problem. I followed you and you were mad. We're past it." Sun said casually. His easy grin was so different than Adam's small smiles, yet it made Blake feel hollow all the same.

"Is everything okay? Is something wrong with the ship?" Blake asked. "Are people still getting seasick?"

"Nah. The ship's fine and our recruits are fine." Sun said briskly, tail curling up near his head. "I think most of them got their sea legs. Just in time to reach land again, huh?" He winked.

Blake rolled her eyes. "We still have a ways to sail before we reach land. And then we have to travel to Mistral." She sighed. "It's going to be close."

Sun grimaced. "I still can't believe the White Fang are planning to blow up Haven. Adam's a real piece of work."

"He wasn't always." Blake murmured.

Sun heard her. "What do you mean?"

Blake's thoughts drifted back to shortly after her dream. That had been the last time she and Adam had talked like that, with him showing such optimism. She could never figure out what had changed. Except now she had a feeling she knew  _exactly_  what had changed. Or maybe she had always known and refused to believe it.

_Adam was late._

_Blake tried not to pace as she stood at the edge of the White Fang's camp, glancing in the tree line in the hopes that a black-clothed figure would soon appear. Numerous figures should arrive soon, but there was only one she really wanted to see._

_Finally, when the moon was high in the sky, a black figure appeared amidst the trees. Blake ran towards him, a greeting dancing on her lips, only for it to die in her throat as he stumbled, crumpling to the ground._

" _ADAM!" She ran to his side and helped him up, eyes widening at the crimson dripping down his arm and to the ground beside him. "You're bleeding."_

" _I'm fine." Adam snapped, shoving her away and clutching at the wound on his shoulder. "D-Dammit…" He hunched over, gritting his teeth and shaking._

_Blake hovered, uncertain what to do. "What happened?" she asked. "You went to that meeting. Where's the others?"_

" _They're_ _ **dead**_ _." Adam snarled , hand still pressed to his bleeding arm. "It was an_ _ **ambush**_ _! Atlas soldiers were waiting for us. As soon as we appeared they opened fire. It was a_ _ **trick**_ _! They_ _ **lied**_ _to us to draw us out and_ _ **slaughter**_ _us like animals." His fist slammed into the bloody ground, the violent motion conveying all the rage and sorrow he failed to hide. "It was all a_ _ **lie…**_ _"_

_Blake could not tell whether he was furious or sobbing as his shoulders shook. He shifted onto his knees, entire body quivering, and glared at the moon, the moonlight reflecting off the water dripping down his cheeks. Blake dare not approach or speak, frozen in place as she watched him break down and cry._

" _Damn you!" Adam howled like a wounded soul. "Damn you,_ _ **ATLAS!**_ _"_

"He used to genuinely want peace and harmony between humans and Faunus." Blake said softly. "Then he was strung along with promises of improvement and peace by someone in power. They betrayed him in the end. They promised to work with him, but ambushed his team instead, killing them all except him." She closed her eyes, trying to force the memory from her mind. "That is not the only incident, but I think it is the one that started him on this path."

"Damn." Sun murmured. "That sucks." His eyes hardened. "It still doesn't excuse the guy."

"No, it doesn't." Blake agreed. She sighed. "After that day, it was like I didn't know him anymore. Then again, I'm not sure I ever knew him at all. I never even found out what his Semblance was." Her ears flattened.  _Maybe he never trusted me._

Sun studied her carefully in the dim light provided by the single lantern in the room. "You still care about him."

"I wouldn't call it that." Blake clarified. "We have a history. I cannot help but still feel a bond with him, like I  _should_ be following him. But…" She shook herself. "What he's doing is wrong."

"We'll stop him." Sun said firmly. "Us, your parents, and all the Faunus will stop him from blowing up Haven. We'll show him he's wrong and kick his ass." He gave a few experimental punches, likely imagining them hitting Adam in the face.

Blake chuckled despite herself. "I know."

Sun was right. They  _would_  stop Adam and the White Fang from destroying Haven. They had to. For the people living there, for her fellow Faunus, for herself, and for the person Adam used to be. It's what she needed, and what the old Adam would have wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said this was planned before V5? One of those planned things was the above bit with Blake and Adam. In case you couldn't tell, I'm ignoring V5!Adam. I admit, I'm more than a little disappointed in how RT handled him in V5. They could have made him a well-intentioned fighter for equality who slowly slipped into evil but no, he was always Yandere-"Spite"-boy apparently.
> 
> No. I'm not doing that. I refuse. I have no use for that type of character. Call it OOC if you want. Me no care. :)


	21. Cark It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dark chapter. That's all the warning you're getting.

Canada drifted in a haze, unaware of the passage of time. He'd be content with that aimless drifting if not for the chill claiming his body and soul. He could hardly move, breath coming in short puffs of air, but a part of him that sounded strangely like America demanded that  _no_ , he was not going out like this, so get up and  _try dammit_.

That voice was smothered under the sound of wind and the numbing chill of snow and ice. The cold deepened with every passing second, seeping over his every cell like frost. Canada dare not fall into it completely, knowing he might not come back if he did. Yet was it only Mantle's slow decay that froze him or something else as well?

He shouldn't accept this.

He should fight it.

He was tired of fighting.

Again and again his thoughts circled through the same old arguments and feelings. He should get up and try to stop this. He should tell someone. He should work. He should make arrangements. He should do  _anything_  other than lay there waiting to die. They always led back to the numbness and cold.

Kumajirou shifted in his spot against Canada's back and whined. "Cold."

_I'm sorry_ , Canada thought.

Of course, the bear could not hear his apology. With a shiver, he snuggled closer against Canada. The nation couldn't feel the warmth of his fur. He supposed he was lucky Kuma had not realized just how bad off he was and run to tell the others. Then again, if he tried, Canada could just erase his memory with a touch and a 's tears froze on his cheeks.

Kumajirou flinched and whimpered again. "C-Cold."

_I'm sorry._

The bedroom door creaked open. "So I heard you—  _¿Qué demonios?_ "

Canada blinked lethargically. Had he started hallucinating? He swore that was Cuba's voice. But he would never come to America's house... Canada curled up more under the blankets, hiding the blurry figure in the doorway from view. Footsteps hurried to his bedside, accompanied by low muttering in Spanish. The blankets were torn from his head and maybe-Cuba gasped.

"What have you done to yourself?" The hand that touched Canada's forehead was burning hot. Its owner yelped. "You're  _ice!_  Stupid Europeans! They left you alone like  _this_?"

Canada forced his eyes open— when had he closed them? Well, he tried to open them but his eyelashes were frozen together. He whimpered in pain and maybe-really-Cuba spat more curses in Spanish. The footsteps retreated and Matthew drifted once more. Something warm pressed over his eyes and he sighed.

"There you are." Cuba said, voice surprisingly soft.

Canada's eyelids peeled apart painfully and his vision slowly cleared, revealing his friend's worried face.

"You idiot." Cuba growled. "You are  _all_  idiots. Why aren't the others caring for you?"

Canada forced his dry, cracked lips apart. "They don't know. Hid it."

Cuba's eyebrows rose incredulously. "You hid  _this_  from them? You're literally  _frozen_. You're  _blue_  and the idiots didn't notice?"

"Didn't… let them see the ice." Canada rasped hazily. "Stayed hidden… and ignored them… until they left me alone."

Cuba insulted the others under his breath, surprisingly leaving America out of his rant. "At least your asshole of a brother was smart enough to call me. Why are you so sick?"

"Not sick." Canada mumbled.

Cuba acted as if he had not spoken, glaring at him as he snatched the washcloth from his forehead. "Already cold." He muttered, standing up. Canada weakly grabbed his wrist before he could leave.

"Not sick." Canada repeated. "Dying."

Cuba dropped the washcloth.

Canada slowly realized what he had said. Something bubbled up in his chest and he shook, unsure if he was sobbing or laughing. Too-hot arms wrapped around him and he hid his face in Cuba's shoulder, tears freezing his eyelashes together.

The hug crushed Canada's walls and he broke down, telling Cuba about everything. Mantle, Atlas, Vale, Remnant, his Semblance, everything that happened to him in the past few months and how it was killing him now. The words poured from him with no filter, and Cuba listened in silence, not commenting Canada ran out of steam and fell into a chilled silence.

"You stupid jerk." Cuba choked, eyes suspiciously bright. "How could you keep this a secret?"

"I don't want to hurt them." Canada mumbled.

"So having them unknowingly stand by and do nothing  _while you die_ is better?" Cuba snapped.

"They'll only waste time trying to save me when they can't." Canada said dully.

His despair was distant now, still heavy in his bones but with a less firm grip on him than before. Perhaps he had finally moved past the initial depression and into acceptance. Could numbness be considered accepting his inevitable demise?

Cuba bared his teeth, firmly in the anger portion of grief. "I can't believe you. You've  _given up_."

Canada flinched, dropping his gaze to his cold, blue-tinged fingers. "There's no point in fighting."

"To  _hell_  with that!" Cuba snarled. "You can do  _something_! You said your asshole brother has fire-powers? Use him as a damn furnace."

That got a weak chuckle out of Canada. "That's not how it works."

"Maybe it is." Cuba challenged. "'Cause here's what I think. I think you've given up since you think you deserve this." Canada flinched but his friend ruthlessly continued. "You only got so bad after you accidentally hurt France. I won't say you're letting this happen to you—" Canada flinched again. "— but you're not damn trying to fight it. If you really don't want to hurt us, you'll do your damn best to get out of this and let us help. Isolating yourself and suffering in silence will only hurt us and you, amigo."

With that, Cuba lifted Canada off the bed, ignoring his yelp. The brown-haired nation marched to the bathroom and deposited him gently on the floor, turning on the tap. Steam wafted through the air, fogging up the mirror and Canada's glasses.

"We are going to try to get you warm." Cuba stated, daring Canada to argue. "And after that, we are leaving this room. We will go do something. We will drink hot chocolate. I don't care what the hell we do. But we are not going to sit here and let you ice yourself."

He crouched and gently cupped Canada's cheek, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You can decide whether to tell your family or not. I won't take that choice from you.  _If_  you stop this and  _fight_  again, understand?" His voice grew quieter but no less firm. "You're a survivor. You always have been. And I'd rather be dragged to hell than stand by and watch you let yourself waste away."

The guilt tried to strangle Canada. The chill did its best to assist it. But for the moment, Canada struggled past the weakness in his limbs and gripped his friend's hand with all his strength, meeting his dark amber eyes.

"I'll try."

XXXXXXX

Stone crackled beneath the car's wheels as it slowed to a stop. England put on the brake and exited the vehicle, leaning against the door as he waited for the others. The other nations— America, Prussia, Russia, and Australia— and Pyrrha got out as well, shutting the doors as quietly as they could. There was some space between themselves and their target's house, but if they could get some semblance of surprise on their side by not warning Russet Greenlee of their approach, America would take it.

He glanced down the road at the house their target resided in. It was surrounded by woods, much like America's mansion, though this house was much smaller, more like a cabin. It was equally isolated, however, and perfect for someone who didn't want to deal with neighbors. America checked his cell signal, noticing it was still good, but paused, glancing at Pyrrha.

"Does your phone work?"

"Yes." She replied after a pause. "It's not your Semblance boosting the signal."

America nodded. "Thanks. We're so far out I was worried we'd be unable to contact people."

"That would be inconvenient." England acknowledged. "I doubt we'll need backup but the situation can always go south."

"Are you sure we shouldn't have called America's boss so he could send agents?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." England stated. "We want answers, not for the man to vanish and never be seen again. Besides, if the man  _is_  from Remnant, he may have Aura. The agents would bring him down eventually but they would lose people before he'd fall."

"Meanwhile, we can take care of the naughty man with no problem." Russia said gleefully.

"Only if he's a threat. We need proof before we do anything." America reminded him.

"No promises." Russia said. "Regardless of his loyalty, he stalked you. I do not like that."

America smiled hesitantly, but went with his instincts. "Thanks for caring, dude." He teased, giving Russia a friendly jab in the ribs.

Russia blinked at him, and America swore his purple eyes softened. "You are most welcome."

"I hope he resists." Prussia said eagerly, launching himself between them and snagging an arm around America's shoulders. "I need some action. I missed the fight in Kuroyuri."

Pyrrha grimaced. "That was not a fun battle."

"All battle is fun." Prussia claimed.

The champion said nothing, lips pursed.

They began the trek to the front door, England taking point with America towards the back. He wanted to protest the set-up but knew Greenlee might bolt if he saw his target was on his doorstep.

"How are we doing this?" Australia questioned. "We can't go in guns blazing. Not that we brought guns to begin with."

"England did." Russia said cheerfully. "And I have my pipe."

"I'm sure you won't have to use it." England said hurriedly.

His phone chirped, emitting an irritating beeping noise. England took it out, glaring at it agitatedly, and did a double take. America leaned over to snoop but England shoved his phone back in his pocket before he could see. America pouted and was stiffly ignored.

"Is something wrong?" Australia asked.

"Nothing." England grunted.

"That isn't a 'nothing' face." America commented.

England scowled. "If you must know, Francis intends to make frog legs for dinner."

"Ew." America said, wrinkling his nose. "Most of his food is good but…  _ew_."

"Agreed." England grunted. "Let's get this over with and go home."

Prussia giggled excitedly.

England pinned him with an annoyed stare. "Actually, Prussia; you can check out the perimeter."

Prussia wilted. "What? Why?"

"Because I don't trust you to refrain from causing a scene." England said bluntly.

"The awesome me would never—"

"Prussia." England growled through gritted teeth. "Perimeter."

Prussia huffed and stalked away, muttering angrily about ungrateful stupid Brits under his breath. They watched him go and continued towards the door. England grabbed America's arm.

"Stay out of sight for the moment." he advised, gesturing to the side.

America nodded and reluctantly went around the corner, peering at the others as they stepped onto the porch. England rang the doorbell and they waited. There was no answer.

Russia frowned. "Maybe he's not home—"

Pyrrha tackled the nation to the ground the instant before something flew through the door. America barely took time to register that it was a bullet before England smashed open the door, rushing through. The sounds of another gunshot and a scuffle rang out and America raced into the house, ignoring Pyrrha's warning cry.

England tussled with Russet Greenlee, playing a deadly game of tug-o-war with a rifle between them. It was telling that the nation's head-butt did little to stagger the man. Instead Greenlee reacted instantly, yanking the rifle free and bringing the butt end down on England's head. England fell to one knee with a grunt, freezing as the gun was pressed to his temple. The rifle jerked and Greenlee yelped as it was torn from his hands, flying out of view.

Pyrrha stormed into the house, green eyes blazing, and threw a metal chair at Greenlee, striking him head on. The man swore and staggered to his feet but America tackled him, bringing him back down to the ground. Greenlee kneed him in the gut, making him recoil, and yanked a knife from his belt. Pyrrha tore it from his grasp with her Semblance.

"Bitch!" was the man's first word to them. "I'll call the cops!"

Russia appeared at America's side and gently pushed the younger nation away, sweeping Greenlee up off the floor. The bear hug was literally bone-crushing and Greenlee's swearing was accompanied by the sound of a cracking rib.

America winced in slight sympathy. "Enough, Ivan."

"Nyet." Russia said 'pleasantly'. "He tried to shoot me."

"You're trespassing." Greenlee spat.

America scoffed. "You didn't have a sign. Oh, and New York is one of the states where you'd better have a damned reasonable excuse for firing. In fact, you can't  _ever_  shoot people for  _ringing your doorbell_ , you  _asshole_. So that's zero for three. You should have looked up the laws better. Or maybe picked Florida to hide out in. At least there you could've pretended."

Greenlee glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about you psychotic—"

"Cut your baseless jabber." Australia snapped. "We know you've been stalking Jones."

"And we can tell you have Aura." England snarled, leveling his pistol at the man's head. "Otherwise you'd be out like a light."

Greenlee's eyes flickered from person to person, landing on Pyrrha. The recognition in his eyes betrayed him and the champion glared stonily back.

Greenlee gritted his teeth. "Fine. You caught me. I'm from Remnant."

"Atlas?" England asked, sharp as a whip.

Greenlee shut his mouth, lips thin.

"I'll take that as a yes." England said icily. "How long have you been stationed here?"

Greenlee glowered at him.

Russia chuckled unnervingly. "I would answer, my friend. You know who and what we are, da? If you do not tell us what we want to know, we will be forced to inform our bosses. They will not simply be content with information about  _this_  mission."

Greenlee grimaced but remained silent.

Russia tapped his chin. "Who do you think will want him? FBI? CIA? The NSA? They are all such nasty organizations. I should know. They captured many of my agents back during the Cold War. They love their information, you know, and will go to many inhumane lengths to get it.  _Kolkolkol_ …" He grinned, as sharp and deadly as a shark. "But your people are even  _more_  inhumane, da?" His hands crept up to Greenlee's throat.

America grabbed Russia's arm before he could start squeezing. "No, Ivan. We need him to talk."

Russia scoffed but released Greenlee. The man— the soldier of Atlas— fell to the ground with a gasp. He got onto his hands and knees and glared at them with utter loathing.

"I will  _never_  betray my Kingdom." He growled.

"Is that who is giving you orders? Ciel Soleil?" England demanded.

Greenlee's silence said it all. America did not know whether to laugh in relief or hysteria. He settled for biting his tongue to keep his rampant emotions buried inside. Despite his efforts, he must have shown some weakness because Greenlee focused on him, sneering.

"I was told you are Vale now. And yet you  _abandon_  Remnant." He snarled.

America recoiled.

Pyrrha's fist met Greenlee's nose with a resounding  _crunch_. His Aura protected him but his head snapped back.

"Don't you  _dare_." The champion said, voice low and shaking. "Don't you dare try to blame him for what  _you_  did!"

Greenlee shifted uncomfortably.

England saw him falter and pounced. "How were you told about Vale? That happened after you arrived here."

Greenlee's shoulders tensed, then abruptly slumped. His eyes sought America, glittering, and the nation was instantly on guard. "You're right. I was ordered to remain here and make a life for myself in case you and the other one managed to escape back to Earth. I've been getting orders and updates through a Scroll."

"Where is it?" Australia demanded.

Greenlee ignored him, eyes never leaving America. "I was told when you vanished from Beacon. Remnant needs you to save it, yet you selfishly fled back here like a  _coward_ , leaving Remnant to rot."

America couldn't find his voice. A chill went up his spine.

Russia gently grabbed the back of Greenlee's neck. "If you know what is best for you, you will stop saying such lies." He said in a cheerful voice, but America could hear the iciness underneath.

"Are they lies?" Greenlee challenged, glaring at America. "You were chosen to become a nation of Remnant. Out of all the people in both worlds, Atlas chose  _you_  to become our  _savior_. Yet you acted like an ungrateful brat who fled as soon as—"

The rest of his words became a garbled mess as pain lanced through America's head.

_When the cell door opened, America knew he was in trouble._

_It wasn't Ironwood standing there._

_It wasn't the kindly doctor._

_It wasn't random soldiers._

_It was the scientist who vivisected him._

_Blue eyes locked with grey and the nation instinctively pressed his back against the wall of the cell, heart in his throat. The scientist smirked, slow and taunting, and stepped into the cell like a fox entering a chicken coop. His gaze never left America, and the blue-eyed nation dare not look at Canada, mentally praying that his brother would not speak or draw attention to himself._

" _Good evening, Subject A." the scientist said in a falsely pleasant voice. "I am in need of your assistance."_

_Two soldiers approached, grabbing America's arms, and he tensed in their hold. Before he could try to fight, the scientist clicked his tongue._

" _Remember your deal, Subject A." Grey eyes flicked to Canada, who stared back with an openly panicked expression. Thankfully, he said nothing._

Ironwood told him about that?  _America thought, heart sinking. …_ Of course he did.

_America ignored the sting of betrayal and lowered his head. He allowed the soldiers to unlock his manacles and put him in handcuffs, the metal locking around his wrists with a soft click. The scientist stepped forward— making him flinch much to his shame— and plucked his glasses from his face._

" _You won't be needing these." He turned to Canada and America's breath caught in his throat. To his relief, the scientist merely tucked the glasses into the collar of his brother's shirt._

_Canada glared at him, hatred overcoming his fear. "Don't you dare." He hissed, and America swore he had never heard his brother so angry before. "If you touch him I swear I'll—"_

" _You'll_ _ **what**_ _?" the scientist mocked._

_Lips set in a snarl, Canada opened his mouth. The scientist lashed out, grabbing the twin's chin and jerking his head up. A glint of metal caught America's eye and he thrashed in the soldiers' hold._

" _Don't!" he begged._

_The scientist ignored him, laying the scalpel on Canada's tongue. "Well?" he crooned. "What were you going to say?"_

_Canada stayed silent and still but his expression said it all. If looks could kill, the scientist would be dead a thousand times over. The man laughed, enjoying his power over them, and America could see him considering slashing Canada's mouth just for the hell of it._

" _Don't." he pleaded again, and the scientist immediately focused on him. He knew the man was the sadistic sort that preyed on the helpless so he took advantage of that, showing all his desperation so the monster saw him as the best victim. "We made a deal."_

" _We did." The scientist said pleasantly. "And now it's time for you to keep your end of the bargain."_

_He removed the scalpel from Canada's mouth, cutting the corner just the slightest bit. Red trickled down Canada's lip but he did not lose his scowl. His violet eyes locked with America's and the raw fear returned._

" _Alfred,_ _ **no**_ _." Canada whispered._

" _It's okay, Mattie." America said shakily, forcing a smile. "It's going to be okay."_

_The soldiers blindfolded him and dragged him out of the cell._

_America knew the path to the operating room by now, having gone there for 'little' experiments these past few… however long it had been. The scientists were never allowed to inflict mortal wounds on the twins anymore, only small cuts and pricks so they could track their regeneration under the doctor or Ironwood's supervision. This time, that was not the case._

_He didn't struggle. He couldn't risk it. Not after Ironwood's threats._

_America was strapped to the table, gritting his teeth around his gag as he was drugged with the paralytic by the assistant. His muscles grew sluggish but his mind remained brutally clear. The blindfold was removed, and he saw neither Ironwood nor the doctor were there. The General probably didn't want to face the brutality he had ordered._

Coward.

" _Guard the hallway." The scientist ordered the soldiers._

" _Yes sir." Said one, and they left._

_The scientist wasted no time. He sliced America's Atlas-issued clothes off, dropping them into the waste bin. His assistant hesitantly approached, dragging an IV stand with him. He brushed alcohol onto the inside of America's elbow and paused. The head scientist noticed his stilted movements and glared at him._

" _Is something wrong?" he asked neutrally._

" _No, sir." The assistant said uncomfortably. "But I… The General said we aren't supposed to remove—"_

" _The General has no say in this." the scientist said coolly. "Now give Subject A the anesthesia before I decide it may interfere with the results."_

_The assistant quickly did as he commanded, attaching an IV to America's arm. The nation's blue eyes followed him and the man's shoulders stiffened, but he refused to look at the prisoner. America winced as the needle jabbed into his skin, but soon found himself drifting under the mixture of drugs pumping through him. The scientist leaned into view, his figure oddly fuzzy, but America could hear him clearly enough._

" _Do not think I gave you that out of mercy. I just can't have you screaming and wiggling about." He grinned, and through America's drug-addled mind, his smile stretched like a demon's, showing too many teeth. "As you told the dear General, once you heal, it will be like this never happened."_

_America slowly realized what was going on. The scientist was_ _**not** _ _acting on Ironwood's orders. This surgery was completely off the General's radar. Ironwood did not know he was here, and the scientist was the last person to worry about his Subject's well-being. If he weren't drugged, America would be panicking, screaming and fighting with everything he had in order to alert someone,_ _**anyone** _ _to his predicament. Instead he could only blink lethargically, his pounding heart untracked by any machines that would shriek warnings. The scientists didn't care about tracking his heart beat. They needed silence and nothing to trace._

" _Don't fret." The scientist crooned, making America's skin crawl. "You won't feel much. Perhaps a tug here and there while we sew you back up. We're removing a chunk of your liver today. You'll grow it back."_

_America blinked at him. A distant part of him screamed, but it was nearly inaudible even in his own foggy thoughts._

_The scientist's grey eyes glittered angrily. "The secrets in your cells could help us regenerate limbs. You could be the key to curing all known diseases and extending human lives. And yet the General and Atlas intend to_ _**squander** _ _your potential so you can be_ _**hosts** _ _!" His fist struck the table by America's head and the nation was unable to flinch. The scientist took a breath, visibly calming himself. "But no matter. What the General doesn't know won't hurt him. I— unlike him— understand the scientific marvel you are."_

_America couldn't respond even if he wanted to. He stared at the light above him, trying to ignore the two scientists shuffling around him. The small part of him that was not in a floating haze was glad the lamp wasn't reflective. He wouldn't be able to see what they were doing._

" _We'll have to use the clamps to keep him open." The scientist said to his assistant. "We can't have him regenerate too quickly."_

_America heard the words but failed to understand them, lost in the fog. He blinked at the pretty light floating serenely above him. It looked like a little sun. He missed the sun. It had been so long since he had been outside. He and Mattie should go to the beach. They could invite England and everything. But England couldn't swim. He wouldn't want to go. Maybe Japan would? He'd have to ask him when they went home. He missed home._

_Why did he miss home?_

_Where was he?_

_The sun darkened and America breathed, the intake of air ragged and stuttering. He felt a strange tugging sensation below his ribcage, tugging that soon grew sharp and painful. He whimpered around the cloth in his mouth and the surgeon cursed. That was weird. Why was he having surgery? Had he gotten injured really badly again? Canada would be upset and sad with him. America always hated it when Canada was sad. It made him sad and then Canada would be doubly-sad and so he'd be sad and—_

_His abdomen was burning._

"— _anesthesia too quickly." A muffled voice was saying._

" _Give him more." The surgeon snapped._

" _He could overdose." The other voice protested. "If he falls into a coma here we won't be able to hide what we—"_

" _Fine." The surgeon growled. "Leave it then. Keep giving him doses of the paralytic."_

_America wished his tongue wasn't so heavy. If it wasn't, he could tell the surgeon to give him the anesthesia. He needed it. The pain was becoming really sharp. In fact, he could feel the tools holding his skin open and the scalpel slicing through something inside him before a large chunk of something was taken out—_

_America's scream was muffled by the gag. Not his tongue. It wasn't his tongue that lay heavily in his mouth. It was cloth. He was gagged. He wasn't having surgery done. The man wasn't a surgeon oh God oh God_ _**OH GOD—** _

" _ **Shut him up**_ _." The scientist hissed._

_The assistant grabbed America's head, hushing him, but the nation sobbed and screamed, the noises barely audible past the gag. His fingers twitched and clawed at the metal table, brushing against wires, and he grabbed them just before the assistant expunged yet another dose of drugs into his system._

_That paralytic did nothing to numb him. He could feel the wires in his grasp, just like he felt the scalpel slicing through his flesh, and he shut his eyes, begging someone,_ _**anyone** _ _to help as he felt the scientist lift something out of him._

_**SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!** _

_The heart monitor wailed, causing the scientist and assistant to jump. The older man cursed, dropping something off to the side with an audible, wet splat. He pointed at the machine, revealing gloves that were covered in red._

" _Turn that off!"_

" _It's unplugged." The assistant claimed, panicking._

" _I_ _ **know**_ _it's not attached to him, you fool. That's why it's set off an alarm!" the scientist snapped._

" _No, I mean it's not plugged in—"_

_The lab door slammed open, splintering into shards of metal._

" _What are you_ _ **DOING?**_ _" Ironwood thundered._

_Footsteps pounded into the room and the scientist screamed. America saw him soar away from him and slam into some equipment, sliding to the floor as they sparked around him. The assistant cowered against the wall, hands up and arms shielding his head, but Ironwood ignored him, storming over to the scientist and looming over him._

_The doctor appeared above America, skin ashen and eyes wet with unshod tears. His eyes were green. A bright, vivid green like grass. America had never noticed before. He felt sharp pains in his upper abdomen and whimpered, glimpsing clamps tinted with red as the doctor removed them. The doctor pressed something against the slice and America cried out softly._

" _You're going to be just fine." The doctor assured him soothingly, removing the gag with his free hand. "Let me stitch you up, alright?"_

_America couldn't respond. His gaze sought the scientist only to find him in Ironwood's grasp. The General had the man lifted by the front of his lab coat, his feet dangling above the ground._

" _ **Answer me!**_ _" he roared. "Why have you disobeyed my orders?"_

_Despite his position and the fear in his grey eyes, the scientist glared at the General. "You and Atlas do not realize the treasure trove you have discovered. These creatures can_ _**regenerate** _ _. Think of the strides in science and medicine we could make if we study them."_

" _They are meant to be tested for compatibility, not used as an_ _ **organ farm**_ _." Ironwood snarled._

" _They'll grow everything back." The scientist retorted. "They could be the answer to transmutation, to longevity, to_ _ **immortality**_ _! With them we could_ _ **change the world**_ _by creating super-soldiers, by making it so our Huntsmen do not need to fear death. You are wasting their potential! Atlas and you, both! You are_ _ **fools**_ _—"_

**BANG!**

_The scientist's head snapped back, blood trickling from the thin hole in his forehead. Ironwood released him with his other hand and his body crumpled, hitting the table as he fell. America stared at the scientist's corpse, unable to tear his eyes away from the puddle of red extending around his wound, and if he were less paralyzed he would be trembling. The doctor shifted so his body shielded America from the sight of the bloody corpse._

" _It's alright." He soothed shakily. "You are safe now."_

_They both knew he was lying._

_The doctor finished stitching up America's wound, and the nation realized he could move. Perhaps he could have before that moment, but terror kept him still and silent. As a couple soldiers dragged the scientist's body away, Ironwood's glare transferred to the assistant. The man flinched and covered his head, cowering against the wall._

" _Please—"_

**BANG!**

_A single gunshot silenced him._

_America trembled, heart in his throat._

_Ironwood turned to his soldiers. "Find out who else was a part of this. I will deal with them."_

_Two of them nodded and left with the assistant's body. America watched them drag him away, eyes drawn to the splatter of red he'd left behind on the wall. He finally found his voice._

" _You killed them." He said shakily._

_Cold black eyes landed on him and he flinched, fully expecting a bullet to the head. Ironwood's eyes widened slightly— an indecipherable emotion flashing through his expression— and he turned his head away from the terrified nation, looking to one of his men._

" _Take him back to his cell." Ironwood said neutrally. He then spoke to the room at large. "And let this be a warning not to allow this to happen again. We have our orders. Atlas will_ _ **not**_ _be disobeyed."_

_The implied threat was for the soldiers and scientists, yet as America was lifted onto a stretcher and carried away, he couldn't help but wonder if it was for him as well._

America grabbed Greenlee by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall. The soldier's Aura flickered and he gasped in pain. America barely heard it, fury burning like fire in his veins.

"Your country  _kidnapped my brother and I_." America snarled. "They  _tortured us._  They  _experimented on us_. They  _dissected us_. They  _messed with our souls_. They put  _millions of lives at risk on Earth_. My _people's lives_ and _my brother's_. But you claim they're  _justified_?"

"They did what had to be done." Greenlee stated. "Vale was dying. In order to save our world, sacrifices had to—"

America's fist connected with his stomach. Greenlee's eyes bulged as his Aura depleted in a flash of orange light. America dropped the man carelessly into a chair, glaring down at him as the others closed ranks around the Atlas soldier.

" _Bullshit_." America spat, shaking the man harshly. "I wasn't a savior. I wasn't some elite chosen one brought in to save you. I was a  _pawn_. I was a  _prisoner_. I was an  _experiment_  and a  _slave_. Your people weren't on some noble quest to save Remnant. You were  _playing God_ , disregarding millions of lives as a necessary sacrifice while claiming you were doing this for the greater good. You drafted me into your war— and my brother, family and  _home_  with me— because you don't see the people of Earth as people. You think your lives are so much more important than ours that you'd  _slaughter all of us_  if you'd survive." He choked on a sob.

England squeezed his shoulder briefly and America instinctively struggled to smile for him, to show him he was fine. Before his very eyes, England's green irises became ice, lit only by the fury smoldering under his skin. It was at that moment that America realized what he had revealed to the nation: that England's fears that the twins had been dissected and tortured were indeed real. Watching his brother loom over the soldier, America wasn't sure if he regretted his transparency.

"Thank you for your input, America." England said pleasantly. "With that being said…" He calmly leaned forward and grasped Greenlee's chin, fingers tightening just above the man's trachea. "You can tell me what the hell your orders are and who is giving them, or I'll convince my boss and the United Nations to send  _nuclear bombs to blow up your bloody Kingdom._ "

England's tone never changed. His voice never rose. He remained calm and unflappable, seemingly not giving in to his rage. It only made his ultimatum all the more terrifying.

Pyrrha inhaled sharply.

Australia and Russia exchanged glances.

America did not know what to feel.

Greenlee paled. "You wouldn't—"

England grinned. It was not a pretty smile in the slightest. " _Why_  wouldn't I? We aren't worthy of living, according to you. Why  _not_  see your Kingdom the same way as you see us:  _Expendable._  And besides, Vale and Mantle are far enough away that they won't even experience any nuclear fallout. You harp on and on about sacrifices, but as soon as your people are involved, oh, the  _price_   _is too_   _high_!" Finally, silky rage dripped into his voice, smooth, poisonous, and deadly.

Greenlee stared mutely at enraged nation, skin ashen.

Russia spoke before he could. "Even if England does not call his boss,  _I_  will call mine." He smiled nastily. "You declared war on us the moment you kidnapped the twins. And we don't have any truces with you when it comes to weapons of mass destruction, now do we?"

In the face of two ruthless nations, Greenlee's resistance crumbled. "That won't be necessary." He said in the tone of a man who could barely keep his voice from shaking. "I'll tell you everything."

England's disturbing smile became a small, triumphant smirk. " _Well_?"

Greenlee shifted, freezing when Russia smiled at him. "As I said, I was stationed here after the North American national personifications were… recruited."

"Kidnapped." Australia spat.

Greenlee's lips thinned. "I snuck into this country and tried to keep track of the other nations' movements to see how they were trying to find you. I was mostly unsuccessful, but was able to track… other intel through… other means."

_He might not be working alone_ , America realized, a chill going up his spine.

Greenlee continued. "Eventually, I received word of you escape, followed soon by your new location at Beacon and agreement to complete the transfer."

America's nails bit into the flesh of his palms.

"Then the Battle of Beacon happened, and Atlas did not contact me for a while. It was months later that she finally texted me again, telling me you were back on Earth and without your memories. She informed me that we needed to jog your memory before… retrieving you."

"They're planning on kidnapping Alfred again?" England demanded.

Greenlee's posture was stiff. He ignored the blond-haired nation, to his visible ire. "I was given scripts that would hopefully trigger your memories. I didn't want to risk going to a different country again so I hired a conman to frighten you into returning to your own soil. Once you were back, I was ordered to follow you and send pictures of your movements to Atlas. My Kingdom asked that I send the photos to your 'big brother'—" His lips curled into a sneer. "—as well to make you think you were being stalked."

"Why?" England demanded. "That would only make us more protective."

Greenlee smirked. "Exactly." His eyes locked with America's. " _We know your mind_ , Jones. We know how you  _think_. If you informed your boss of the threat, he would  _smother_   _you_  with guards and agents. You would become despondent and desperate to escape. And eventually, you would  _run off on your own_."

America swallowed roughly, repressing a shudder. He could see the scenario play out in his mind. The agents lurking everywhere, stopping him from going outside, lingering in the corners like the guards at the lab and giving him no peace until he grew distraught enough to sneak out alone.

"We knew you were going to a government-issued therapist." Greenlee's smirk vanished. "You did not tell him about the 'stalker', so you did not receive guards. That plan was a failure."

_Thank you, David_ , America thought as he recalled the therapist relenting on the issue and promising to keep his secret.

"What were you going to try next?" England demanded.

"I have not received new orders from my Kingdom yet." Greenlee groused. "However—"

He jerked in the chair and his head collided with Russia's nose. The nation staggered back, falling onto England and sending them both to the floor. Greenlee leapt to his feet and America launched himself at him. Before he could reach him, the soldier's palms opened.

Light flashed, blinding them all, and America staggered into someone. The other person caught him, hands tight around his wrists, and he yanked himself free, blinking spots from his eyes. His vision focused to see Pyrrha in front of him, Australia to the side, and England and Russia on the floor.

Greenlee was nowhere to be seen.

"What the  _hell_  was that?" Australia demanded.

"If I had to guess: his Semblance." England growled. He shoved Russia off of him and stood. "Fools! We were bloody incompetent  _amateurs_!"

"I didn't even think about his possible Semblance." Pyrrha admitted, a slight tinge of guilt in her voice. "I didn't consider he might have one, or how quickly his Aura would regenerate. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. We all messed up." America said tiredly. He looked around the empty room and sighed. "We're lucky it wasn't something damaging. Pretty good for a quick escape though." He grimaced. "Is there any chance Prussia caught him?"

"If he did, we'd be hearing about it already." Australia pointed out.

America's shoulders slumped. "Great."

England hurried to his side, giving him a brief, comforting hug. "We'll find him. For now, we need to go home."

"Dude, we can still try to catch him." America objected.

England shook his head. "He will be long gone by now in those bloody confusing woods outside."

America realized he was right and sighed, struggling against the bitter bite of failure. "Damn it."

"Yo! All you un-awesome people!" Prussia skipped— as in literally  _sashayed_ — into the room, beaming and oblivious to the miserable atmosphere within. "I have an important announcement to make."

"You caught Greenlee?" America asked hopefully.

Prussia blinked. "You let him escape?"

America flinched like he'd been struck.

"Bugger off you bloody git." England snapped at Prussia.

Prussia ignored the insult, smirking. "The awesome me has become so awesome that I can now see magical creatures!" he proclaimed.

England gaped at him. "You— ?Y-You—?  _What?_ "

Prussia nodded happily. "I saw a unicorn outside. Ugly thing. It needs more awesomeness."

" _You_  saw a unicorn?!" England shrieked. He balked, turning red with fury. " _How dare you call it ugly!_ "

"Are you sure it wasn't just a horse, Prussia?" America asked tiredly.

He really wasn't in the mood for dealing with the egotistical nation right now. Not after everything that had happened. He hunched, blinking back tears as his mind slowly registered  _exactly_  what he had remembered. Pyrrha put a hand on his arm and he forced himself to smile.

Prussia didn't notice, too caught up in his accomplishment. "I will show you unawesome disbelievers." he sniffed. "This way."

He pranced out the door. The nations and Pyrrha eyed each other before following. They'd search the house after. If they didn't, Prussia would bug them until they went with him. The red-eyed nation led them towards the woods, halting near the car.

America saw nothing but trees. And more trees. And—  _oh my gosh_ — there were  _more trees_. What a shocking twist. He kept his biting commentary to himself, knowing all he wanted was to lash out at the world and maybe burst into tears.

Did he mention there were many, many trees and no unicorn in sight?

"It was  _just_  here." Prussia pouted.

"Oh, I believe you. Or maybe you mistook a loose horse for a magical creature." England said sarcastically. He turned back towards the house with a huff. "Now, if you're done wasting our time, let's get going—"

" _NOO-!_ "

**Crunch**

The male scream cut off with terrible finality, leaving a horrible silence behind.

The nations and Pyrrha stood in the driveway, frozen and united in their shock as they slowly registered the faint sounds they could hear coming from the woods. There was  _rip_ ping and  _snap_ ping, almost too quiet to hear. America knew what the sounds were. He  _knew_. But his brain refused to comprehend it, remaining in a calm, safe haze of ignorance.

He exchanged a glance with Russia and Pyrrha and slowly they circled around Greenlee's house, the others trailing cautiously behind. Their footsteps were as silent as possible, not making the slightest crunch on the stone or grass, and they passed by a large pile of chopped wood, revealing movement at the edge of the forest behind the cottage.

Russet Greenlee's dead eyes stared blankly at the nations and Pyrrha, eyes wide and terrified even in death.

The 'unicorn' stood above him, head lowered to his torso.

It was as black as night and barely visible in the darkness of the woods, but the little light that revealed it showed strange, almost snake-like skin covering its horse-like frame. In the shadows, America could see the vague outline of a slightly crooked horn protruding from its forehead. If he did not know better, he'd swear the 'unicorn' was nuzzling the man.

He had ears.

He knew better.

Pyrrha tensed. Australia inhaled sharply. England's hand tightened around his pistol with a creak. Prussia's eyes widened with comprehension. Even Russia looked disturbed.

And America?

He  _really_  wished he'd brought Cobalt Striker.

"That's  _not_  a unicorn." England breathed.

The creature noticed its frozen observers. It slowly turned its head toward the nations and human, revealing a horned white mask set over blazing red eyes.

Pyrrha went bone-white. "That's a Karkadann Grimm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that are curious, look up 'Karkadann' or 'Karkadann unicorn'. I'm going with the more 'horse-like' version rather than the 'rhino' version. Because evil unicorn Grimm. :D Come on, you know you want to see one of those in canon.
> 
> I hope the flashback wasn't too descriptive. I tried to keep it vague while keeping the horror. Do you understand yet why I was so reluctant to post the prequel by itself? I'm glad I'm doing it this way because of the darkness of the flashbacks, and because then readers won't have to choose whether to read a prequel before Weight of the World.
> 
> I sense incoming Atlas-hatred in three… two… one…


	22. Unprotected Exposure

The wind rustled through the branches of the trees, making them clack and clatter as they struck each other. It ruffled America's hair, flicked Pyrrha's ponytail, and rustled the Karkadann's long mane. The Grimm eyed them curiously, unnaturally still and silent, and none of them dared to move, fearing a single action would cause the creature to attack.

"Pyrrha? What are we dealing with?" England said calmly, green eyes never straying from the Grimm.

"A Karkadann's horn and skin are poisonous. Its teeth are capable of crushing bone." Pyrrha informed them, equally monotone. "It is incredibly fast and agile, and its scream is said to stun and paralyze opponents. Its skin is also very thick. Most bullets won't make it through."

"It doesn't have much bone plating." Russia noted.

"It does." Pyrrha said. "Unlike most Grimm its armor is black. It's  _covered_  in it."

"Weaknesses?" England asked tersely.

"The horn. And the legs are thin. If we had our weapons we might not have as much trouble but…"

The Karkadann got onto its hooves, footfalls clopping softly as it shifted its stance. The observers tensed and waited, but it still did not attack, ears flicking slightly. America noted that the Grimm was only a bit taller than the average horse.

"It looks small." America brought up hesitantly. "Is it young?"

"No. It's very,  _very_  old." Pyrrha said tightly.

Looking into those red eyes, America swore he saw a spark of intelligence there. That was  _not_  good. The Karkadann gazed back at him, ears twitching, and it sniffed the air, huffing. Then its jaws opened, wider than should be possible like it was ripping its skull apart, and it  _screamed_.

America recoiled, barely registering the sound of shattering glass as the shriek of a hundred tortured souls assaulted his eardrums, bringing him to his knees. He heard the sound of pounding hooves and looked up in time to see the Karkadann bearing down on him. A metal circle flew between them and the Grimm staggered to the side, skidding past its target.

Pyrrha landed in front of America, summoning the lid of the garbage can to her hand, and grimaced. "This will have to do."

"Amerika." Russia appeared beside America and tossed him something. He caught the object, recognizing it as a simple metal bat. It was no Cobalt Striker but it was all he had.

"Thanks." He said shortly, swinging it experimentally.

Australia had grabbed a two by four, while Prussia wielded an old, rusty kitchen knife. They could probably find more suitable weapons in the cottage, but there was no time to search.

The Karkadann galloped at them, head lowered with its horn like a javelin and America rolled out of the way, allowing it to rush past him. It halted abruptly, snapping to a stop, and the Karkadann's hind legs kicked Australia solidly in the chest, sending him flying. He struck the cottage and crumpled limply to the ground, and America saw its hooves left sizzling marks where it struck his clothes.

Russia blocked the Grimm as it charged at the fallen nation, straining, and the Karkadann snarled, horn inching closer and closer to the nation's neck. America struck it in the back of the head but the Karkadann barely staggered, one red eye rolling his way to glare murderously at him. The Grimm twisted, snapping at his hands, then grabbed the bat in its teeth, biting clean through the metal.

America let go and backed away as Pyrrha dived in, bashing the Grimm with her makeshift shield. Its horn impaled the metal and shook its owner off, sending the lid flying into the woods. Bullets bounced off its hide and if America did not know better, he'd swear the Grimm rolled its eyes in annoyance. It turned to England, racing at unnatural speeds, and snapped and stabbed at the nation, forcing him to retreat. If only America had a long-range weapon he could—

_I'm an idiot. Semblance. Duh._

America grimaced, raising his hand and pointing it at the Grimm as lightning flickered in his fingertips. The Karkadann noticed and paused in its pursuit of England, ears perking.

" _No_ , America!" England shouted. " _She_  might be able to see!"

America froze, uncertain as to who 'she' was. He did not have time to consider the possibilities. The Karkadann bore down on him. At the last moment, it shifted its head aside, avoiding stabbing him with its horn to instead strike him with its skull. America hit the ground hard, rolling to a painful stop, and was forced to curl up to avoid the Karkadann's hooves as they struck the earth around him with enough strength to shatter bone, barely missing his arm.

Prussia landed on its back with a yell, grabbing its head and forcing it up. The Karkadann shrieked but the nation refused to release it, clinging to it as it bucked him around like an enraged bull. Again, the Grimm gave its bone-chilling scream and England and Pyrrha fell to their knees, clutching at their ears. Russia pulled America to his feet.

"Awaken my Aura." Russia urged.

America hesitated. "What—?"

Russia grabbed him, yanking him aside, and the Karkadann's horn impaled the wall where his shoulder had once been. The Grimm pulled itself free and screeched, locking America's muscles in place, but he forced himself to roll away, dragging Russia with him. Australia joined Prussia on the Grimm's back— grimacing in pain as its skin burned him— but they failed to even slow it down. The Karkadann spun in circles and snapped angrily at its unwanted riders, powerful jaws inching closer and closer to Australia's flailing leg.

"I'll be able to take more hits with Aura. You can't use your Semblance. At least use your Aura for something useful." Russia said quickly.

America hesitated, and then nodded. "Fine. Come here." He placed a hand on Russia's chest and quickly gave the chant.

Purple light flared over Russia's large frame and he grinned. "Thank you, comrade."

He lunged for the Grimm, grabbing it right by the horn. The Karkadann roared in his face, blowing his hair back, but Russia kept smiling. Ignoring how the poison gnawed hungrily at his Aura, he snapped the horn clean off, eliciting a scream from the Karkadann. Russia followed up his attack by kicking it directly in the leg and it staggered, falling onto one knee. The Grimm's eyes rolled and Russia raised the broken horn above his head—

The Grimm struck like a snake and its jaws latched onto the nation's throat. In one deft move it threw him through the wall of the cottage, bucking Prussia and Australia off its back and kicking the white-haired nation into the dirt for good measure. Its back hooves struck Pyrrha in the jaw and she crumpled soundlessly. England cursed and shot at it, but was swatted aside like a fly.

America made to rise but exhaustion swept through him from activating Russia's Aura. He fell to his knees in a daze, and when he blinked, the Karkadann was above him. Panic froze his body and mind, and in desperation, he called the closest person's name.

" _Gilbert_!" America screamed.

Prussia lunged for him but stumbled, clutching at his stomach. Speckles of red splattered onto the ground and the nation collapsed to his knees. America never saw him get hit. He did not have time to ponder on it as the Grimm chomped down on his shoulder, right beside his throat. America yelled in shock more than pain. He shoved at the Karkadann's nose but it refused to release him, dragging him into the woods.

America's feet scrambled for purchase as he was yanked over twigs and dead leaves. He heard distant shouts and the Grimm snorted around its prize, galloping faster. America could feel its teeth grinding through his Aura, the pressure around his shoulder slowly becoming pricks of pain. He gasped and struggled, pounding weakly at the Karkadann's head, but every blow ate at his Aura even more thanks to its acid-like skin. He might as well have been a baby rabbit in a wolf's mouth for all the Grimm noticed him struggling.

He looked around the desolate forest, desperate to find  _something_  to help him, and caught sight of a vibrant red scar in the air.

He recognized it for what it was.

A portal.

It was taking him _back to Remnant._

_No!_

Lightning gathered in America's hands and he shoved them against the Karkadann's head. The Grimm's skull  _exploded_ , sending black matter spraying into the air. America fell to the ground, clutching at his shoulder, and scrambled away from the portal, breathing heavily. He had to get up. He had to run. If something else came through—

A hand landed on his shoulder and he screamed, shoving them away with wind. England struck a tree and crumpled to the ground with a groan.

America recoiled. "I'm sorry!"

England pushed himself back to his feet and rushed over to America, arms raised. The nation flinched, shutting his eyes, but they snapped open when warm arms wrapped around him. England breathed shakily in his ear, the sound too close to sobs for comfort, and rocked the younger nation slightly.

"You idiot." He croaked shakily. "We almost lost you."

America glanced behind him and saw the portal was gone. The fear and adrenaline driving him drained away and he slumped against England, trembling.

"It tried to kidnap me." He whispered softly. "A  _Grimm_  tried to kidnap me."

"I know." England said, strained. "You  _idiot_. Do you realize what you might have  _done_? If Salem was watching through that Grimm's eyes…"

 _I just confirmed to her that I'm Vale_ , America realized. He slowly went over the fight again, comprehending that the Grimm only became so interested in him  _after_  he tried to use lightning against it. His heart sank and he pulled away from England, putting his head in his hands. "I'm so  _stupid_. I flaunted my Semblance, wasted Aura awakening Russia's, and nearly got kidnapped for it. And now Salem might  _know who I am_."

"We don't know that. And you're  _not_  stupid." England claimed despite his earlier insults. America's words fully registered and he blanched. "You did  _what_  with Russia?"

America hunched, afraid to look at him. "I awakened his Aura. He asked me to during the fight and I thought—" He saw England's pale-faced, murderous expression in the corner of his eye and shut up.

England ground his teeth, green eyes alight with pure rage. "That… manipulative… immoral… malicious son of a—" He cut himself off, taking a breath and smiling at America. It was obviously forced. "That doesn't matter. We defeated the Grimm. Now we need to get home."

"…That's what that message was earlier, wasn't it?" America realized faintly. "You got a warning on your phone that a portal opened up."

England shifted uncomfortably. "Just the one."

America did not ask why the nation did not just tell him the truth earlier. Did England not trust him? Did he worry America would panic and draw the Grimm right to him? Did he comprehend that Earth was now open to attack and it was all Alfred's fault? America was afraid to know the answer so he kept silent.

They hurried back to the cottage to see everyone conscious if a little worse for wear. Prussia was the worst off with spots of crimson drying on his chin and Pyrrha fretted over him like a frazzled, fiery mother bear.

"—ere did you get hit?" the champion was demanding of him.

"Nowhere." Prussia said firmly. He coughed, grimacing, and glanced to the side. "The… awesome me might not have fully healed from our portal mishap."

" _What?_  It's been  _weeks_." England thundered, storming up to the white-haired nation.

"I do not heal as quickly as I once did." Prussia admitted uncomfortably.

"Why didn't you  _say_  anything?" England snapped, checking him over. From what America could see, there was no wound. Externally.

Prussia glared at him, red eyes dark with a warning. "West cannot know. He worries enough about me." The white-haired nation stood and shooed Pyrrha away, crossing his arms and daring any of them to continue that topic of conversation.

"So." Australia said, pressing a hand to his chest and wincing. "Is anyone else going to ask how the Grimm got here or do I have to?"

"It came through a portal, git." England growled.

"I guessed that." Australia said levelly. "But  _how_? The portals are  _Atlas_  technology, right? While the Grimm are  _Salem's_  minions."

An uneasy hush fell over them all as they comprehended what he was saying. America's stomach twisted itself into anxious knots.

"A  _Grimm_  showed up through an  _Atlas_  portal." Australia felt the need to emphasize. "Based on what you told me, they'd  _never_  work together. So either Salem has undiscovered access to Atlas's technology or Atlas has access to technology that can control Grimm enough to send one through a portal here. Which option is worse?"

"If Salem sent the Karkadann, she knows about Earth and has a way to send her forces here." England surmised tightly.

"But if Atlas sent it,  _they can control Grimm_." Australia repeated. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Or did it target America by coincidence?"

America flinched, staring at his muddy shoes.

England's gritted his teeth audibly. "Russia, Australia; stay here and find whatever information you can in Greenlee's house. Use his car to get back to the mansion. I'm taking America home."

America opened his mouth, only for Pyrrha to interrupt. "I think that's a good idea."

Alfred glanced at her, seeing the turmoil and fear in her green eyes. He looked back at his shoes and nodded without protest, trying to ignore the painful claws squeezing his heart. He followed her, England, and Prussia back to their car in silence, unable to shake the dawning feeling that he had just doomed his home.

XXXXXXX

The mansion was a welcome sight, though the woods around it made America paranoid. So many things could hide in there, and they might not see them coming until it was too late. He got out of the car as soon as it stopped, walking quickly to the porch and through the front door with barely a pause.

He could feel someone at his shoulder and saw flicks of red in his peripheral vision but did not look at Pyrrha, afraid to see what her expression would hold. Was she scared for him? Judging him? Pitying him? America did not want to find out so he purposely looked away, mumbling something about going to his room.

"Al—"

America fled before she could finish, running up the stairs and darting to the safety of his bedroom. He passed Canada in the hall but barely register's his brother's presence, set on getting into his room and blocking everyone else out. As soon as the door shut behind him, America slid to the ground, head in his hands. He couldn't say it was merely guilt that made his chest tight. In fact, it was the unbridled terror that planted barbs in his lungs and nearly choked him.

_They can get to me. Salem and Atlas both._

America trembled even as he scoffed at himself for his reaction. He was being a drama queen again. So what if the forces that captured, hunted, and hurt him had showed up on Earth? So what if the fact that he  _still wasn't safe_  was now undeniable? America's self-loathing mounted as he gave in to fear, nearly sobbing in his room as he failed to draw in enough air and his vision grew spotty.

_I can't do this again. I_ _**can't** _ _._

It didn't help that he was not the only one put in danger now. Salem and Atlas had no investment in Earth other than him.  _He_  was the one and only reason they even kept an eye on the planet. America would love to claim it was self-centered of him to think that, but what could be the reason if not his status as Vale? Atlas probably wanted him back for 'safekeeping' while Salem needed him to get the Relic of Choice in Beacon.

The thought of Canada or England or his people facing a Grimm invasion were worse than the possibility of being captured again and he rested his head between his knees, trying and failing to breathe normally.

For a single moment, he considered leaving. He considered finding a way to contact those on the other world and give himself up before he attracted more trouble to Earth. Maybe if he made a deal with them, they'd leave his world alone...

Deep down, he doubted they would. In fact, they'd probably threaten Earth and his family more to keep him in line. Atlas wouldn't be content with locking him away in a dungeon, and Salem wouldn't simply let him retrieve the Relic before letting him go. It didn't matter how much blood they spilled in their quest to get their precious Vale back, and giving himself to one of them would not prevent that bloodshed.

So what could he do?

_Prepare. Plan. Fight._

The thoughts came easier than the implementation but he had to  _try_.

After giving himself time to sit and breathe, America wiped at his eyes and walked to his mirror, glancing at his reflection. Scared, red-rimmed, mismatched eyes looked back at him. He carefully covered his green eye with his eyepatch, but the black material only brought out the pale pallor of his skin. But that was fine. He could think. He could move. He could breathe. There was no more time to waste. He'd have to deal with the newest crisis, like he always did. He couldn't sit around like a golden duck waiting for someone to come and snatch him again. He had to  _act_.

America snagged his journal from the drawer of his nightstand and exited his room, nearly running into England. He sidestepped the nation, not slowing as he headed downstairs.

"Alfr— Where are you going?" England demanded, following the American.

"I have some things I need to work on." America said vaguely. He shoved his phone at England. "Put the portal-alert on my phone. Actually, put it on the phones of everyone here."

England took the phone with a frown. "Is that neces—?"

"It is." America interrupted. "Whoever sent that Grimm isn't going to stop after just one. We need to be warned when they show up or Earth could become Remnant 2.0. We're lucky that we caught the Karkadann when we did. If it had appeared in a city, or if it was a Spawner-type like the Dragon…" He gave a hollow, humorless chuckle. "Like I said: Remnant 2.0."

England winced.

America felt Pyrrha at his other side. "Has anyone's boss been informed?" she asked.

"No." England said shortly. "I will call the President later."

"Don't." America stated.

England scowled. "America, he needs to—"

"If you tell him, he'll send agents to watch me." America interrupted. "Those agents won't be able to do a  _damn_  thing against anyone or any _thing_  Atlas or Salem send. They'll be sheep in a slaughterhouse. I  _refuse_  to involve them and get them killed."

He didn't mention that he was also uncertain if England, Russia, or the President would follow through with their threat of using nuclear bombs on Remnant upon their bosses learning about the Grimm. America could not say if he genuinely did not want such a war on his behalf or if he merely did not want to stoop to Atlas's level by attacking them like that.

Either way, America did not really  _need_  Atlas destroyed for what it had done. Atlas's destruction would not bring him satisfaction or peace. Well, maybe a  _little_  satisfaction. Still, he just wanted his people and world  _safe_. And he wanted the cold Kingdom to  _leave him the hell alone_.

America's eyes narrowed to slits. "Unless you want me to unlock the agents' Auras—"

"No." England denied.

"Thought so." America said tiredly.

"Then what do you intend to do?" England demanded, not appreciating his tone.

" _You_  are going to help Tony with that shield." America said bluntly. "I'm going to make sure we aren't caught defenseless and flat-footed again." His grip tightened around his journal.

England frowned. "What are you planning?"

America paused and looked his brother in the eye. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." England said instantly.

America allowed a smile to pull at his lips, ignoring the twang of guilt at his own inability to fully return that trust, even now. "Then I'll tell you once I'm sure it will work."

England hesitated visibly, but nodded. "Very well. I will assist Tony." He hurried away.

America watched him go and glanced at Pyrrha. "Can you come with me?"

"That was always my intention." She said, following him deeper down to the lower levels of the house. "What are we doing?"

"We're making the nations their own weapons to fight the Grimm and whatever else Remnant throws at us." America informed her.

He opened the journal and revealed his sketches to Pyrrha. Her green eyes roamed over the pages, taking in the detailed blueprints, before resting on America's face.

"You've been thinking about this a while." She surmised.

"Yes." America said shortly. "I always knew our enemies would never leave us alone. I guess the Remnant battle-ready paranoia in me never really left." He traced one of the weapons idly with his forefinger. "Do you think you can help me make them?"

"Yes." She said solemnly. Her gaze drifted to the side, focusing on the wall past his head. "My father is a blacksmith. He created my weapons. I do not know much about forging and metalwork, but I should be able to assist you when needed."

America took her hand without hesitation, giving it a small squeeze. "You'll get home." He promised.

She squeezed back. "And you'll be safe one day."

America dearly hoped that they could both keep their vows.

He laid out the journal on the table and they got to work.

XXXXXXX

England stood in the doorway of the mansion, arms crossed and staff gripped in his hand. He watched an unfamiliar car pull up but could clearly see the people inside. It was only because of that visibility that he did not blast the vehicle to smithereens, though he was tempted to at least target one of the nations inside. Australia noticed his mood and wisely kept his distance, green eyes flicking between England and the target of his ire.

Russia smiled 'obliviously'. "You have come to greet us? How kind of you."

"What did you find?" England asked, not in the mood for games.

Australia went to the trunk of the car and lifted out a box. "Just a few knick-knacks and that Scroll Greenlee was talking about. It's off and I haven't touched it. I'll let America have a look at it in case it's rigged to clear itself or something."

"That's a good idea." England said coolly, gaze never leaving Russia. "How about you go ask him?"

Australia silently hefted the box a little higher in his arms and brushed past England, entering the house. England shut the door behind him with a snap, stepping onto the porch.

"You and I need to talk." He snarled at Russia.

The large nation was unperturbed. "Very well."

They went to the side of the mansion, lingering near the trees. England might be more nervous were Tony's alarms not silent. The Karkadann was the only thing to come through the portal, for now. So Grimm were not anything to be concerned with. Russia, on the other hand, was. The burning coals in England's stomach spread through his chest and it took all his self-control not to let his staff light up warningly.

"You  _bastard_." He hissed.

Russia blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play games with me!" England snapped. "You  _know_  what you did. You manipulated America into activating your Aura."

"I did no such thing." Russia claimed.

England's staff creaked. He stormed up to the bigger nation, jabbing him in the chest with a forefinger. "You did. You took advantage of his naivety and the situation to make him do something he would  _never_  do normally! You did not need Aura to break off the Karkadann's horn. You simply waited until the situation seemed desperate to egg America into 'assisting' you."

"Perhaps." Russia admitted. "But Aura made the fight easier. It will make  _other_  things easier as well."

England was too angry to feel a chill at the potential threat in his words. "I don't trust you." He said bluntly. "Not in the slightest. Not after what you've done in the past. So let me warn you now: If you try to use this gift against my family, I will  _destroy you_."

Russia's head tipped. "Are you threatening my country?"

England smiled, allowing the ruthless shadow of the British Empire to seep through the cracks. "No. I'm  _promising_ you I will end  _you_ , Ivan." His staff glowed with a menacing green light.

Finally Russia's smile slipped and he glanced at England's staff. The blond-haired nation could not say he saw comprehension dawn, but the other nation did back up a step.

"I am hurt you trust me so little, England." Russia said, sounding genuine. There was no way to tell if he was or not.

"You shouldn't be surprised." England said coolly.

Having said his piece, he turned on his heel, fearlessly— and perhaps recklessly— showing his back to Russia. The other nation did not attack him, though he did call out to him.

"The World Conference is in a few days, England." Russia said. "You cannot protect America from the world forever."

 _I can bloody well try_ , England thought.

He did not reply to Russia. He returned to the mansion, and slammed the door shut, leaving the other nation outside.


	23. Separation

America checked his luggage. He walked to his closet, paused, and went back, checking it again. Nodding to himself, he returned to his closet… and went back to his luggage. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Dammit."

"Something wrong?" a faint voice asked.

America looked to the doorway and beamed. "Mattie! You're up again."

His twin leaned against the doorframe, as pale as ever. But he was out of bed. He was moving around, as he had been ever since Cuba came and dragged him out of his room. America did not know what Cuba had said to Canada and he did not intend to ask, but it had affected his brother, bringing him out of his funk at least a little bit. Canada still looked tired and miserable, and he was still acting a bit weird— who wore gloves inside?— but he was not isolating himself from them anymore. America didn't question it. He would take any improvement over the misery his brother had fallen into.

"Nothing's wrong, specifically." America said, looking through his pile of clothes. "I just feel like I'm forgetting to pack something."

"Do you have a toothbrush?" Canada asked.

"Yes."

"Wallet?"

"Yes."

"Phone."

"Yes."

"Clothes for the meeting?"

America grimaced. "Yes."

Canada chuckled, as faint as a breeze. "Don't sound so enthusiastic."

"Sorry. I'm just so excited to have to wear a fancy suit for a fancy meeting with fancy nations I'm supposed to know but don't." America said sarcastically.

Canada pushed off the doorframe and put a hand on America's arm. The nation frowned and shivered. His brother's touch was cold, even through the glove. Mattie noticed and shoved his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

"You'll be fine." He encouraged America. "You can honestly just ignore everyone and sleep if you want to."

America snorted. "Really? But the meeting is in New York. Surely I'm supposed to host or something."

"Germany will host." Canada told him. "He usually ends up doing it anyway or things get too disorganized."

America put a hairbrush in his suitcase and frowned. "Are you sure we're not going on a playdate with children? Cause everything I've heard about the meeting makes me think all we do is argue."

"Sometimes that  _is_  all we do." Canada admitted. "But we still have to go."

"Joy." America sighed and zipped up his luggage and grabbed Cobalt Striker. "Are you bringing Maple Frost?"

"Yes." Canada hesitated. "And you can bring Cobalt Striker into the meeting."

"They allow  _weapons_?" America spluttered.

Canada nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. Some of the nations would rather lose limbs than part with their weapons and I swear a few of them can summon them from thin air so it's useless to try to deny them."

"Is that why there's an infirmary in every meeting hall?" America asked warily.

"Yes." Canada replied, resigned.

America grimaced. "Why do I feel like I'm being sent to a battlefield, not a meeting?"

"Battlefields look tame if they really get going." Canada mused.

"Oh boy. I can't wait." America said dully.

"Alfred?" Pyrrha stood in the doorway, dragging a suitcase behind her. She wore her red jacket, black t-shirt, and jeans for travel, with the addition of a strangely metallic red and gold belt…

America squinted at it and grinned. "Nice belt."

"Thank you." She said demurely. "I do believe it suits me." She glanced between America and Canada, brow furrowing. "What's this about live weapons?"

"The meetings rarely get that bad. Germany's pretty good at keeping them focused." Canada said.

"Hm." Pyrrha hummed vaguely. "I will be positioned with America in the room, correct?"

"Yes. You'll be fine. You have Aura." Canada reassured her.

Pyrrha blinked. "That is not comforting."

"You don't have to go." America said instantly.

Pyrrha shook her head, red hair flicking in the air. "I will be alright. Canada is right. I have Aura, and if it gets bad enough I can make them 'accidentally' drop their weapons."

"Only use that as a last resort." Canada pleaded. "You need to keep your powers a secret from… well…  _everyone_."

The champion looked to America. "You are right. This does sound like a battlefield."

"I've got your back." America said.

"And I have yours." Pyrrha replied.

Canada sighed. "If you're done, we have to get going. The meeting isn't for a couple days but I'd like to get to your penthouse before nightfall."

"Is everyone staying with us?" America asked as he lifted his suitcase.

Canada shook his head. "There aren't enough rooms there so most of them are staying in a hotel with the others. They're heading out tomorrow. It's just us three today. We can actually tour the city a bit if you want."

"Huh." America mused, looking at Pyrrha. The champion raised her eyebrows. America chewed on his lip. "I need to get some other things."

"Take that to the car first." Canada advised.

America did so, loading the first few bags before dashing back into the mansion. He grabbed what he needed, loading them into a sturdy metal case and putting it on a wheeled cart. He pulled it behind him and slowly up the stairs, nearly running into Romano.

The Italian yelped, scowling at him. "Watch where you're going, hamburger bastard."

"Sorry." America apologized. "I'm in a rush." He spotted the suitcase Romano was carrying. "Are you leaving today too?"

"Yes. My brother is being a  _pest_." Romano growled. "Pasta this, Germany that! Bah! I can't stand it."

America hesitated, gripping the cart with both hands. "Do you want to ride with us? You can stay in the penthouse too."

Romano studied him, and his sneer lessened. "Fine. It wouldn't be the first time. But if you say a single word about pasta—"

"Pasta." America said with a smile.

Romano smacked him upside the head and he laughed. The Italian was still grumbling to himself as they went outside. Canada took one look at the steaming nation and put his bag into the car without comment. Romano sat in the backseat with a huff. When America set his latest addition in the trunk, he jumped as the car rocked from the added weight.

"What the hell? What do you  _have_  in there? Rocks?!"

"Weapons." America said bluntly.

Romano squinted at him, torn between exasperation and unease. He settled for exasperation and shook his head. "I don't want to know. At least you're still the same old crazy bastard."

America smiled. "Thanks."

He shut the trunk. England and the others came out of the house, and America took a moment to note how bedraggled his older brother looked. Since the nation and Tony had not burst from the lab with a proclamation that the shield was in perfect working order, they must have hit a snag in their project. After bidding goodbye to some of the others, America made sure to hug England extra tight.

"See you at the meeting. Please don't destroy my house while I'm gone."

England scoffed.

"I'll keep them in line." China interjected. "If they misbehave, I will bring out my wok, aru."

America grinned. "Don't hold back." He glanced hesitantly at Japan. "You sure you don't want to come?"

"No thank you. I'd like a little more peace and quiet before returning to the city." Japan declined gently.

America wasn't bothered by his refusal. He knew Japan did not mean it maliciously. He just wanted some space. "Okay."

France stopped hugging Canada and embraced America, surprising the nation. "Do everything I would do."

"Isn't it 'don't do anything I wouldn't do'?" America questioned.

France winked. "I know what I said."

"Ignore the frog." England said immediately.

America laughed. "I will."

Canada was now speaking quietly to Cuba in what sounded like French but was not quite. Maybe it was the French they spoke in Quebec? Or maybe it was the accent that made it sound off? Huh. America didn't know Cuba knew the language, whatever it was. Then again, he was still pretty ignorant of… almost  _everything_ …

He watched Cuba's face twist, and sniggered as Mattie was forced to endure a bear hug. Kumajirou did not appreciate getting squashed between the two nations and wiggled unhappily.

"Can we go now?" the bear whined.

Canada detangled himself from Cuba's hold, adjusting his glasses. "I guess we should."

He set Kuma in the back— who immediately climbed onto Romano's lap to the nation's horror— and got into the driver's seat. America sat in the back, allowing Pyrrha to ride shotgun. The other nations and Tony gathered in front of the mansion, waving goodbye as they pulled away. America slouched in his seat and sighed, prepared for a long journey to New York City.

"So." He said idly. "What are the chances my house will still be standing when I get back?"

"…Do you want the honest answer or a comforting lie?" Canada asked after a pause.

America smacked his head on the window. "Great."

XXXXXXX

By the time they arrived at the Penthouse, America was bored, twitchy, jittery, and raring to go. He practically threw all their luggage through the door and immediately turned to Canada, clasping his hands together as he bounced up and down.

"Can we go do something? I need to do something. I need to walk. I need to be outside. Car rides are  _boring_. Hey, look a bird!" America rushed to the window, scaring away said bird. He pouted. "It flew away…"

Canada kneaded at his forehead. "Romano, did he have sugar?"

"I didn't give him an energy drink." Romano said quickly.

A vein pulsed in Canada's forehead. "You should know better."

"Hey, he was chatting nonstop. It shut him up!" Romano defended himself.

"And now he's  _this_." Canada growled, gesturing at America.

America clearly heard them but did not particularly care. He happily informed Pyrrha about all manner of things, pointing out stuff he could see in the Penthouse and blabbing about whatever his mind wandered to.

"—was playing a game and beat my high score but I swear I didn't use my Semblance I don't cheat like that and then I got bored so I started reading the tour guides and I want to see the Statue of Liberty do you want to see the Statue of Liberty it's all greenish because of the copper hey do you think our weapons will rust like that I hope not that would suck we have to take good care of them ooh the birdie's back!"

He opened the window and bounced his foot, keeping everything else still. The bird— a sparrow?— perched on his finger and he beamed, giggling. Canada put a hand to his forehead, pressing it against his skull. Kumajirou wandered into the penthouse, likely to take a nap. Pyrrha hid her mouth with her hand, coughing suspiciously. Romano was the poster boy for the word 'regret'. America didn't care. He felt so energized. Like super-duper energized. He was probably going to crash later so he had to do stuff now now  _now_  when he had the energy.

The bird flew from his finger so he walked up to Canada, shifting from foot to foot. Left right left right left right left—

"Can we go now?"

Canada shoved his brother out of his face. "Are you going to be trouble?"

"I'm cool. Just jittery." America said rapidly. "Romano gave me  _five_  energy drinks when I was thirsty wasn't that cool of him he's so nice!"

Canada glared murderously at Romano, frost crackling over his shoulders. The Italian flinched and Canada winced, almost as if in pain. America stopped moving and squinted at his brother suspiciously. Was that the energy-highness or did he actually see pain on Mattie's face? Canada hesitated, hands stuffed in his pockets, but nodded.

"We can go as long as you don't run off." Canada scolded America as if he were a child. "We don't know what might be out there."

That made America sober a bit. "I'll be good. I'm fine and dandy and alert. Just gotta move. Time's a-wasting let's  _go_."

Canada snagged his arm before he could walk off, taking Cobalt Striker from him and putting it away. "Stay. Don't make me grab a leash."

"Get a skateboard and I'll pull you around." America teased. He blinked and grinned mischievously.

" _No_. I'm pretty sure that'd get us arrested." Canada said tiredly.

"Spoilsport." America pouted. He feigned ignorant to the way his brother wiped at his forehead. Canada pretended to scratch at his hairline instead of wiping away sweat but America saw it. "You know, you two don't have to come if you don't want to. You've both seen it all before."

"I'm not staying in your shitty penthouse all day." Romano growled.

"I'm perfectly fine with going." Canada claimed.

America rubbed at the skin under his eyepatch. Canada did not reach out to stop him. He just hunched his shoulders and sighed. He sounded tired. And looked tired. And pale. Really pale. Did he think America did not see that? Though it might be the energy drinks that were making him notice-notice-notice all the things off about his twin, but he still had enough of a brain to mouth filter in order to keep his thoughts to himself.

 _After the meeting, we'll go to Canada_ , America decided.  _Mattie's been away from home and in my country long enough. He can relax in his. He deserves it._

America ushered a resigned Canada, regretful Romano, and amused Pyrrha out the door. The city bustled with people, some hurrying to their destination, others wandering at a slower pace, while still others stood in place, talking to their friends, on the phone, or hailing a cab. It was all so busy, and it might be the energy drinks talking but America  _loved_  it. His entire body seemed to buzz as he walked among his people. Although there were honking horns and the occasional angry shout at a jaywalker, he felt a sense of peace he had not experienced in a long time.

They walked to the subway, sticking together in the car. America subtly guided Canada into one of the open seats— by pretending he spotted a space and cheerfully shoved him there— while he, Romano, and Pyrrha grabbed onto the handles for standing passengers. Surprisingly, the crowded sub didn't bother America. He felt… safe. There were so many people he didn't know, but he knew they wouldn't harm him.

Pyrrha was not so relaxed, looking around uncomfortably and inching out of people's space, but when no one gave them a second glance, she slowly relaxed. They emerged near Battery Park. Romano took one look at the lines waiting for the ferry and shook his head.

"I'm not waiting. Stupid city is always busy…"

America chuckled. "Of course it is. This  _is_  the City that Never Sleeps. Though most people shouldn't be sleeping now. It's kinda early."

"Any time is a good time for sleeping." Romano grumbled.

"Sorry, America. I think it's too packed to go over now." Canada apologized. "But we can see at least the Statue from the edge of the harbor."

"That's good enough for me." America agreed.

They headed through the park and to one of the benches along the harbor. America looked across the water and at the statue, taking in the large green form standing proudly on the island. He couldn't see all of the statue, but he could picture her clearly in his mind. She was a robed woman, facing forward with a torch in her right hand and a book inscribed with 'July IV MDCCLXXVI'— July Fourth, 1776— in her left. She was an icon of freedom and the United States of America, welcoming those arriving from abroad.

More personally, the Statue of Liberty was given to America as a gift, celebrating one hundred years since his independence.

_America and France stood on the edge of New York Harbor, gazing out at the tall copper statue recently erected there. America could not stop smiling, his happiness almost bursting from his skin as he looked upon the Statue of Liberty, France's gift for his centennial. The nation had made America's people put it together, but seeing it now, it took his breath away._

" _Thank you for this, France." He said sincerely. "It's such a beautiful present."_

" _That makes all my hard work to make it worth it." France chuckled and leaned against the stone barrier between them and the harbor, flipping his hair with a wink. "Do you see the resemblance to me in the statue's magnificent beauty?"_

_America could hear the teasing— and vanity— in his voice. He tipped his head, a smile playing at his lips. "I don't see it."_

_France gasped in mock-offense— that might just be real— and began to point out every beautiful similarity between him and the Statue of Liberty._

Words crept unprompted into America's waking mind.

"…' _Give me your tired, your poor_ —'" he whispered. "'— _your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'_ "

"What is that?" Pyrrha asked.

"It's part of  _The New Colossus_ , a poem. It's on a bronze plaque in the lower level of the statue. It was put there in…" His eyes slipped closed as he tried to remember. "…1903. It was written by Emma Lazarus to raise funds for the pedestal."

Pyrrha mouthed the words silently, green eyes drifting back to the Statue of Liberty. "Is that why some people came here? To be free?"

"Yes. Some came for freedom, others to work—" America noticed how Romano tensed and purposely looked away from him. "—and others for a new chance at life. Some of them didn't get what they wanted. Some still don't. But… the dream is still there, somewhere."

"I think I understand." Pyrrha said quietly. "Back home, we only have lost symbols and relics of tragedies—" America's thoughts turned to Mount Glenn and Beacon and he ignored the painful jolt in his chest. "—but here you have  _this_." He could see words were failing her as she gestured at the Statue, a mixture of longing and sadness on her face.

"I got her from France." America murmured. "As a gift for my birthday and to celebrate my independence from England."

He could feel Pyrrha's eyes on him but did not look at her. "That's so sweet."

"Yeah." America said quietly. "I'll have to thank him again later."

Something niggled at the back of his mind but refused to come forth. It was something to do with England. Maybe he gave America a gift as well?

 _It'll come to me eventually. The memories are all coming easier._  America's heart lightened at the thought.  _Maybe if I go to a museum…_

"Mattie?"

His brother looked at him. America opened his mouth but could not make himself speak as another realization struck him. Not all of his memories were as pleasant as the ones with Japan and France. He had many terrible things to recall. Going to the museum might trigger more of his memories, but it could also cause him to freak out or fall unconscious from the mental onslaught. He probably should wait until after the meeting to attempt such a thing. And do it while no one else was there who might get hurt in the backlash.

"…It's nothing." He stood up and brushed off his pants. "So, where to next?"

They made their way by subway back to Central Park, went to Rockefeller Center, and saw at least a glimpse of all the statues, people, and places in between. Some sites brought vague memories with them, others triggered absolutely nothing, and America did his best to keep smiling when the latter occurred, telling himself it didn't mean anything bad. On their journey, they passed multiple museums. Canada never brought up any of them and America did not ask to stop.

They eventually stopped for dinner— Romano ordered pasta and was instantly horrified by what he had done, muttering under his breath and making Canada give a bigger tip as an apology— and America decided they were close enough to the Penthouse to walk home. Even as the sun set, he did not come to regret his decision. Romano looked a little uncomfortable and Pyrrha glanced at the alleyways suspiciously, but Canada was smiling at the bright city lights.

And America?

He felt safe.

None of his people would harm him.

XXXXXXX

It felt like everyone around Yang wanted to harm her.

They probably did. They were all criminals, from low-level grunts to the kind that swaggered about like they meant business. Feeling like a child in a crowded, gun-filled shopping mall, Yang stuck close to Jaune, Nora, and Ren as Mercury led them through the building to Torchwick. She could hear Qrow murmuring advice in her ear, both literally and figuratively, telling her things she already knew and warning her to remain cautious. Yang did not blame him for his anxiety. The four teens were walking into the lion's den, and even though that was what they wanted, Yang was far from happy.

Mercury glanced back at them and smirked irritatingly. "Relax. You're just meeting the boss. No need to be so worried."

"That's exactly  _why_  we're worried." Yang said tersely, mindful of the hundreds of criminals around them.

Mercury and Roman may be cooperating but the rest of his little gang wouldn't give a damn about their reasons. If the teens were revealed to be goody-goody Huntsmen and Huntresses, the criminals would swarm them like sharks seeking blood. Yang should be grateful Roman agreed to meet with them at all. Instead she could not shake the feeling this was an elaborate trap.

Yang shook such thoughts away… for the most part.  _If Torchwick wanted us dead, he could have sent his goons after us already. He'll probably want to at least know why Neo's in danger before trying anything._

She briefly considered he might try to take the teens hostage before dismissing that idea as well. Mostly. If past patterns and Ruby's reveals about what Roman said on the airship were true, he just wanted to be left alone at this point. Yang would happily leave him to eventually get shot by a fed-up minion somewhere. After they figured out what to do with Neo.

_She won't come with us willingly. Or maybe she will? She is actually hundreds— if not thousands— of years old. Surely she knows how dangerous Salem is?_

Yang could only hope. She touched Ember Cecelia with her metal fingers, despite already knowing her weapons were there. She was honestly surprised Mercury and Roman had not demanded they leave their weapons at home or at the door. Maybe they wouldn't be too unreasonable.

Mercury took them up an elevator and to the top floor. The doors slid open and Yang blinked. They were in a shockingly professional-looking office. Not stuffy like a major CEO's might be, but functional and flashy enough to show this was the man in charge. The lamps were prettily designed, there were large pictures along both walls, and the desk at the end was near a window, the light muted by a heavy tint. There were plenty of dark corners for enemies to hide in, but an initial scan showed no hidden hitmen or guards.

Roman Torchwick slouched in his chair at the end of the room, idly spinning a ruler on a pen. His face was in shadows— likely an intentional move on his part, Yang thought with a derisive snort— but his pearly white grin and suit were easily visible in the darkness.

"Well, well. Look who it is." His irritatingly slimy voice purred.

Roman leaned forward, and Yang barely kept her expression neutral. A ragged scar split his features, carving a jagged line from his forehead down over the bridge of his nose. Yang struggled not to stare at the thick, red slash that marred his features. When Roman's grin widened, the scar distorted his face further, making him look almost monstrous.

"I see you've noticed my new look." He said, dragging a hand over the scar. "I can't say I like it. But don't worry. I shot the son of a bitch who gave me it and left him to bleed out in Grimm-infested woods."

 _Alfred,_  Yang realized, stomach dropping.  _ **Alfred**  gave him that scar_. She shoved thoughts of her fallen friend away and crossed her arms. "Noted, though I don't particularly care."

Jaune tensed slightly and Qrow hissed in her ear.  _"Don't push his buttons, Yang."_

Luckily, Roman seemed amused. "You've always had that spitfire quality, blondie. But fine. I see you don't like idle chit-chat. Let's talk business."

He gestured at a set of chairs. None of them sat.

"Where's Neo?" Yang asked.

"Around." Roman said vaguely. "Why do you want her?"

"She's in danger." Jaune said, taking point.

Yang allowed him to do so, her disgust growing with every word the criminal that attacked Vale, hurt her sister, and honestly  _should be rotting in jail right now_  spoke.

Roman inclined his head to indicate his listening and Jaune launched into the explanation. He explained how Neo was Mistral, about how Cinder's boss was after her, and how Roman was in danger as long as Salem hunted his pink-and-brown colored partner. Roman listened intently, and Yang could almost delude herself into thinking they were talking with a random person who happened to be business partners with their target. Almost did not mean could, and her skin crawled.

_These bastards helped ruin Beacon and we're trying to_ _**help them** _ _._

When Jaune was finished, Roman leaned forward, pressing his palms together on the desk and propping his chin on them. The position made it harder to attack them so Yang relaxed, if only slightly.

"That's quite the story. I believe it."

"…Really?" Yang asked, unable to hide her disbelief.

Roman bared his teeth in an angry smirk. "I knew something was up with Fall and her plans. Never found out what those plans were but people representing nations makes a hell of a lot of sense." His smile vanished. "Are they really after Neo?"

"Yes." Jaune affirmed.

Roman nodded and leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg so his calf rested on his other knee. "I've been partners with Neo for a good while. She's my number two and has done a lot for me. I'd hate to lose her."

"So where is she?" Nora asked eagerly, stepping forward.

Roman did not appear to hear her. "You see, I hate losing. Especially when I can't afford to. I had a good criminal circle before Fall decided to make me her lackey. I just got that back." He tipped his head, and his bowler had shadowed his eyes. "I'd hate to lose Neo… but I'd hate to lose  _that_  more."

_Click._

The pictures swung aside and men swarmed into the room, pointing their guns at the teens. Yang went back-to-back with Jaune and Ren with Nora as the men circled them, blocking the exits. She could hear Qrow cursing in her earpiece but ignored him, glaring at Roman.

"What are you—?"

"Doing?" Roman questioned. "Why, I'm  _winning_ , of course. And keeping my end of the deal. You see." He walked around the desk, swinging Melodic Cudgel in a spinning motion. "Your little gang is a bit late to the party. I recognized you from the moment you set foot in this city. I knew you were too much of a heroic Huntress to be here for dishonest work, so I decided to bide my time and keep an eye on you."

Yang's skin went cold. They'd been set up. She almost wished she was surprised.

Roman laughed. "I admit, I was curious what would make you come here of all places! So I let you into my little gang and sent Mercury to see what you were up to at the first opportunity. He returned to tell me Neo was in danger."

Roman stopped laughing. "I considered meeting with you and having an honest little partnership. Maybe welcome you to the criminal world. Luckily I decided to wait it out a bit because if I'd seen you before, I'd be in a very bad place. Salem's forces showed up on my doorstep just a few days ago."

Jaune gasped. Yang dared not look at him, heart crawling into her throat.

"They weren't too happy about Mercury and me running." Roman grimaced, a pained look flashing across his features. "But we came to an agreement. They got what they wanted, and I got to sabotage your little mission. It's a win-win. And as an added bonus, they said they'd leave both of us alone."

"You know they won't." Ren said levelly. "They will never stop using you for their goals."

Roman paused but shook himself. "Maybe. But at least I'll be  _alive_." He looked to Nora and smiled coldly, his scar distorting his features into an unnerving glare. "You had a question. Do you want to know the answer?"

Yang already knew it. Her heart sank.

"Where's Neo?" she whispered.

Roman kept on smiling— or maybe he was grimacing— and his voice held genuine pain. "They already took her and—  _Shoot them_."

Yang socked a gangster in the nose. The rest fired, their bullets pinging off the teens' Aura. Jaune grabbed her and they dove behind one of the paintings, only to see it only led to a space small enough for a few men.

"Shit." Jaune hissed. "Qrow, did you hear?"

" _I heard."_  Her uncle said tightly.  _"Get out of there."_

"Working on it." Yang snapped, flinching when a bullet shattered some wood near her head.

"What did he say?" Nora asked. "I lost my earring."

Yang ignored her, seething at her own stupidity. It was so obvious in hindsight. Of  _course_  Roman would recognize Yang and the others' names. Of  _course_  Mercury wouldn't coincidentally be sent to them as Roman's errand boy. Of  _course_  they would not be led to Torchwick so easily unless it was a trap. But those betrayals paled in comparison to the horrific revelation that Mistral was  _already_  in enemy hands. This entire mission had been for  _nothing_.

" _What do we do?!"_  Ruby shouted, her voice loud and piercing in Yang's ear.  _"We're too far away!"_

"How high up are we?" Yang asked.

"Thirty-eight stories." Ren said. His pink eyes lit up. "There was a window-cleaner on the outside of the building. If we can make it—"

Something large and hissing flew into the room. Yang barely registered the cylinder before the picture shut and a metal door slammed down behind it, trapping them inside. She gasped at the sudden noise, then wheezed as something thick and cloying covered her tongue and made her head spin.

"Gas." Nora choked.

Yang punched at the picture but hit metal instead, her vision swimming dizzily. She tried to hold her breath but it only made her nausea worse. Aura did nothing to protect from air-based attacks, and in her muddled wisdom, Yang mused how annoying that was. She heard Nora fall over, followed soon by Ren as the gas took the oxygen from the small space, and worked it numbing magic. Her brain fogged, and she distantly heard muffled laughter.

"Don't worry, kiddies. You'll just sleep for a bit. I don't actually want you dead. After all, I'd be very disappointed in your heroic family if they choose their mission over you. Do you hear that, Red? You have exactly one day to try to rescue your big sister and her friends. I wouldn't be late."

There was a soft plink and a crunching sound. Feedback squealed in Yang's ear and if she weren't so tired, she would have flinched. Instead she slumped against Jaune, who swung sword out and managed to slash through the metal door. Roman's yelp suggested a near-miss on his side, but it was too late. Jaune crumpled beside her as the world faded away.


	24. Showing Cracks

It was already past dawn on the day  _after_  Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Nora had been captured, and the backup team had done  _nothing_. In the worst of luck, bad weather had kept them from flying anywhere, which might be a good thing considering their status. Ruby loved her Uncle Qrow. She respected Professor Ozpin. They were older and wiser than her, having gone through more missions than she could count.

But this time, they were both  _wrong_.

"We have to get to Kuchinashi." She shouted, tears in her eye. "Yang needs us!"

Qrow gritted his teeth, and Ruby could see the pain in his face. His next words made her ignore it. "Ruby, we have  _one_  airship to get to Haven. The enemy  _already has Mistral_. If we don't leave now—"

"No." Ruby snarled. "I  _refuse_  to leave my sister behind. We're the only ones who can save her."

"We're the only ones who can save Haven." Qrow said tightly.

"So call Lionheart! Tell him what's happened."

"You know why we can't. He might not be on our side."

"Then call the police. Surely they'll help."

"All it'll take is an assurance from Lionheart that everything's fine and they won't even look. Or do you think Ozpin is the  _only_  Headmaster who has that kind of authority over his Academy?"

" _Someone else_  can find Neo and protect the Relic." Ruby repeated, visibly trembling.

"Ruby, there is  _no one else_. That's why Salem's forces  _did this_." Qrow's expression pinched, crumpling the slightest bit. Anger soon overtook it and he struck the coffee table, making the mugs on it rattle. "Damn it… The Relic could already be gone."

Ruby exchanged a glance with Weiss but forced her gaze away, swallowing the lump in her throat. "The Relic might be, but Yang  _isn't_. We still have time before the White Fang attacks Haven. We have time to rescue Yang. We can't leave her and the others behind."

Qrow dragged a hand down his face. "Oz?"

Barbs settled in Ruby's lungs at her uncle's exhausted tone. He sounded defeated, and she knew deep down he wanted to agree with her and rush to rescue Yang. But he had to look at the big picture. Ruby would admire him for it in any other situation. But not this one. Looking at him now, worn-down and tired, she realized that Qrow wasn't simply asking for Ozpin's advice. He was asking him to make a decision he  _couldn't_. He couldn't leave Yang to— to possibly—

Ozpin exhaled, the look in his eyes far too old for Oscar's youthful face. "If we are lucky, our enemies might wait for the Haven attack to retrieve the Relic. But if they haven't…"

"No." Ruby interrupted, struggling not to cry. Her thoughts flashed back to shuddering ground and blackened rubble. " _I don't care_  about the Relic. I'm  _not_  sacrificing anyone else for the world."

"You aren't sacrificing  _your friends_  for this world, you mean." Ozpin said neutrally. "If Haven falls, it'll be Beacon all over again. If the Relic is taken, we're one step closer to facing world-wide destruction."

Ruby twitched but remained firm. "Weiss?"

"You know what I think." Her partner said levelly.

Ruby nodded sharply and met Ozpin's ancient eyes, refusing to yield. "We're rescuing Yang."

They stared at each other, silver locked with gold-tinted brown. Ozpin looked away first. "Very well."

"I'll go notify our pilot." Qrow said. He stood up but paused, one hand hovering near the doorknob. "Kid… if you're wrong about this…" Ruby tensed. "…It isn't your fault."

Qrow left to get Sterlyn.

XXXXXXX

_Just walk through the door._

_Walk through the door, Alfred._

_Walk._

_Move your feet._

_Any time now._

No amount of pep talks or self-directed scathing remarks could make America move. The building before him was a normal government facility. Flags out front, guards at the gate, doors, walls, the usual. It was even next to a nice little park if its inhabitants wanted to eat lunch there. And yet it was one of the most intimidating places America had ever seen. Not because of its structure, but what lay inside.

"Alfred." He dragged his gaze away from the building to Pyrrha. "We have your back."

America gulped in an icy breath and nodded, opening the door. No one popped out of the woodwork to accuse him of acting strangely. In fact, the hallway was empty. America licked dry lips, feeling like he was attempting to sneak into an enemy's hideout rather than a meeting place. Romano huffed and shoved past him.

"You'll be fine, hamburger bastard." He growled. "Just show them that freaky bat of yours and they'll leave you be."

America absently touched Cobalt Striker's handle. "I'd rather not."

"Then  _move_." Romano enunciated. "The meeting is about to start and the potato bastard will throw a fit if we're late."

America's lips twitched. "I thought you'd  _like_  to irritate him."

"I would except he's terrifying when he gets mad." Romano muttered. He balked, covering his panic with a scowl. "Not that I'm scared of that bastard!"

"Of course not." America murmured.

He walked slowly down the hall, pretending he wasn't dragging his feet every step of the way. Pyrrha and Canada did not call him out on his procrastination. Romano muttered angrily under his breath but stayed with the group despite his complaints. They slowly headed to the conference room, passing through empty halls. According to Canada, this entire building was theirs today. He supposed that made sense. If unaware government officials heard gunshots they'd panic. Not all of them knew about the personifications, with only a select few ever informed.

The bosses knew, and the nations knew of course, and the nations knew each other, all except America who used to know them but now he didn't and damn it all he should have at least stared at pictures of the nations to put faces with names and maybe at least  _tried_  to remember them and—

"I'm not going to talk." America decided suddenly.

"That's out of character." Canada cautioned.

"I don't know what in-character  _is_." America reminded him tiredly. "And I don't think I care."

"Have fun with that." Romano muttered.

Canada adopted that sad, maybe-pitying look America despised being directed at him. "Okay. There shouldn't be time for them to talk to you before the meeting and Germany won't call on you to present. You'll just have to worry during the lunch break."

"Pyrrha, we'll escape out the window." America said, only half-joking.

"Noted." The champion said.

They stopped outside the door to the meeting. Inside he could hear muffled voices. Some were loud, others soft, and many spoke in different languages. He heard England's annoyed shouts— directed at France— and relaxed slightly, exhaling. He wasn't alone in this. He was just severely outnumbered.

"Ready to walk into hell with me?" he asked blandly.

She chuckled. "I don't think calling it that is accurate, but yes."

America took a breath and opened the door. The conversations inside the room immediately stopped. A suffocating silence fell over the room as hundreds of eyes landed on America. Some of the nations showed their emotions easily, while others almost managed to hide them, only betraying their thoughts through their glittering eyes. Most were judging, surprised, searching, piercing, or neutral. Only a select few were supportive or encouraging. Those same few were the only ones who didn't stare at him like he had two heads.

 _Don't show weakness_.

America ignored the nations and walked towards an empty pair of chairs at the back. They were by the window and had no one else behind them. Perfect to guard his back and provide a close escape route. The only problem was the chairs next to them were occupied. Only Pyrrha or Canada would be able to sit beside him, leaving him to sit next to someone he didn't remember. Canada glanced apologetically at him and took a seat beside an Asian nation near the front, leaving him with Pyrrha.

America briefly scanned his options. On one side, there was a nation with chin-length brown hair. The blond-haired nation beside him kept whispering in his ear, and America heard his name mentioned multiple times between all the 'likes' and 'totallys'. His other option was a brown-haired, glasses-wearing nation with an ahoge. He gave off an almost princely air, sitting with his legs crossed and his back straight, but America had the sense he would rather be somewhere else.

By the time America made it to the seats— in the near-complete silence that was only broken by the one blond-haired nation— he made his decision and sat next to the nation with chin-length brown hair. The nation smiled at him and opened his mouth.

"The meeting will now start." Germany proclaimed.

"Wait a minute." One of the nations on the other side of the room objected. "Who is she?"

He pointed at Pyrrha. The champion kept a neutral expression. "I am Mister America's bodyguard. I am to accompany him wherever he goes."

A loud laugh sent prickles up America's spine. "You need a human to protect you now, America?" a nation with blond, spiky hair asked.

America couldn't tell if he was teasing or meant the question with vicious mockery. He ignored him, deigning not to speak at all. At his silence, a ripple of uneasiness went through the room.

"Ms. Nikos has permission to be here." Germany boomed, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "And now if you're done asking inane questions, let us begin with the meeting. Austria has the floor."

The nation beside Pyrrha stood up and gave a brief report, giving an air who only wanted to say what he was ordered to and be done with it. They continued on, with America doing his best to remember everyone's names. There did not seem to be a particular order to who spoke next, and he waited uneasily for his name to come up, paying avid attention despite the boring nature of most of the presentations.

It was slow going, but America could not relax. He could not let his guard down. So he sat in stiff silence, reminding himself that he had Pyrrha at his side and Cobalt Striker on his back. His eyepatch itched and he scratched at it, suddenly aware that he had an unknown in his blind spot. He should have had Pyrrha sit on his left side. But it was too late for that now. All he could do was keep an eye and ear out for potential trouble.

"…really tense and kinda, like, intimidating." He heard the blond-haired nation two people to his left whisper. "Like,  _look_  at him."

"Don't be rude, Poland." The nation beside America chided.

America heard Poland huff. He couldn't look at him without turning his head. Stupid eyepatch.

"Czechia has the floor." Germany said.

A young, dark-haired woman stood up and cleared her throat. "I have nothing to report but I do have a few concerns about Atlas."

America tensed. Across the room, he saw England scowl.

"We are not here to discuss that." Germany said tersely.

"Why not?" Czechia asked levelly. "Do you intend for us to forget that two nations were abducted? Don't think I haven't noticed all of you have avoided the topic."

The atmosphere shifted, growing tense once more. America stared straight ahead, keeping an unbothered expression. In reality, his heart pounded and his skin grew clammy.

"This meeting is for economic reports." Germany said.

"Meetings are for whatever we want to discuss." A nation with blond hair, a white hat, and a gun— Switzerland— brought up. "And I  _also_  want to discuss that Atlas organization."

Murmurs of agreement came from around the room and everyone stared at America. Not Canada, Germany, England or anyone else who could give answers. Just him. He stared back, voice caught in his throat as his fight and flight instincts wrestled for control.

One of the nations—His name might be Spain?— gasped loudly. "Did they take America's voice along with his eye?"

"We heard him talk when he showed up, idiot!" another nation— America could not place his name at  _all_ — shouted back.

America locked his muscles so he would not flinch. They were still staring at him, calculating, invasive, and worst of all  _eager_. They wanted to know everything. They wanted his every weakness exposed. Nervousness slipped away and fiery anger took its place. America's lips twisted into the barest hint of a snarl.

"It's lunch time!" Italy blurted.

The oppressive atmosphere vanished. They looked at the clock and saw the Italian was telling the truth. He got up without preamble, dragging Romano with him, and sped out the door without being dismissed.

Germany sighed in exasperation— or maybe relief. "We shall continue after lunch."

_Thank you, Italy._

America gathered his belongings and halted, noticing the crowd by the door. Some nations 'subtly' looked his way and America knew that they were trying to catch him when he couldn't escape. He exchanged a glance with Pyrrha, who nodded. America turned on his heel and opened the window.

"What is he—?"

America ignored the speaker and climbed out the window, not bothering to explain himself. Pyrrha followed and they would have walked quickly out of sight if someone had not yelped next to them. America grasped Cobalt Striker but when his eyes fell on the person, he paused. A small boy crouched outside the window, blue eyes wide and hands covering his mouth. America immediately knew he was a nation. No. That wasn't quite it. A… micronation?

"Sealand!" Finland poked his head out another window, staring at the boy. "We told you not to sneak around." He scolded, clambering out the window.

A large, glasses-wearing nation— Sweden— followed and looked down at Sealand disapprovingly. The micronation's cheeks colored.

"I wanted to listen to the meeting. I'm a nation, so I should be in there!" he said with an accent that reminded America of England. In fact, his hair-color and eyebrows reminded America of England as well. Was this his kid or something? Could nations have kids?

Finland helped Sealand to his feet, fussing over his dirty clothes. "You promised Su-san you wouldn't do this again. If no one knows you are there you could get hurt."

Sealand glanced at Sweden guiltily before looking at his feet. "I'm sorry."

Sweden gently patted his head. "It's fine." He said briefly. His sharp blue eyes landed on America. "Thank you for find'ng him."

 _I didn't,_  America thought. He merely nodded, self-loathingly afraid to reveal how different he was through speech.

Finland's gaze softened— with goddamn  _pity_ — and he walked up to America, making him tense. "Would you like to get lunch with us and the other Nordics?" He glanced at Pyrrha. "You're invited as well, of course."

America locked eyes with Pyrrha. She tipped her head questioningly, leaving the decision to him. He hesitated. Finland seemed nice enough, and although Sweden looked intimidating he appeared to be more of the quiet than violent sort. America did not recall his relations with them, but if they were on bad footing, surely Finland would not be looking at him so hopefully.

He nodded, still unwilling to speak.

Finland beamed. "Excellent!"

America followed them around the building, texting Canada and England and telling them where he was going. He didn't want them tearing the city apart to look for him, and they deserved to have some space away from him for once and to hang out with their own friends. Canada replied that he was eating with Cuba, while England complained about accompanying the frog.

"America-kun!" He slowed, smiling at Japan. The other nation took his silence in stride. "You can't take that with you, remember?"

America touched Cobalt Striker, smile vanishing. He'd forgotten weapons weren't allowed in public outside of the conference room. He supposed he did have Pyrrha and his Semblance if something happened. He hesitantly took the weapon off, sheathe included, and handed it Japan.

"I'll take care of her." Japan promised. "I'm with China and Korea if you need me."

America nodded. "Okay."

"So he  _can_  speak!"

America's tension returned tenfold at the loud exclamation. The last remnants of his smile slipped away and he stared critically at the approaching nations. Denmark he knew by name thanks to the meeting, but the other one with a bored expression and blue hat was unknown to him.

"Denmark, don't be rude." The other nation chided in a monotone.

His voice was… familiar. As in recently-heard familiar. Recognition clicked and America realized this was Norway. He was one of England's magic-buddies. He knew about Vale. America felt himself relax. At least  _one_  person wouldn't grill him for answers.

"What? He's acting weird." Denmark said. "And he keeps staring at everyone like he's planning how to take them out. We all can see  _ack—!_ "

Norway's expression didn't change as he grabbed Denmark's tie, yanking it. "Enough. Don't ruin lunch."

If he could manage it without the others noticing, America would have shot Norway a grateful look. He settled for appearing disinterested by everything happening around him. The confused glance Denmark and Finland gave each other told him that might not have been a wise decision but it was too late now. He didn't know these people. He couldn't be open around them.

The diner they picked was close enough to walk to. Though he did not expect to go to such a place, America supposed that closeness was the point. It would be a hassle to get through traffic to go elsewhere. Unfortunately, some other nations had the same idea. Or they were following America's group. He hoped that was not the case.

It was definitely the case, because when his group sat outside, the other nations sat nearby, filling almost all the tables. Weren't these people hundreds or thousands of years old? Did subtlety mean nothing to them? Or did they think America was dumb enough not to notice them trying to listen in on their conversation?

 _I should have packed lunch and locked myself in an unused room_ , America thought.  _Or a storage closet. A storage closet sounds nice._

At least his burger was good, and stuffing food in his mouth prevented him from having to speak. Ignoring Denmark's attempts to goad him into talking worked wonders as well. Finland, Norway, Iceland, and Sweden seemed to understand America did not want to talk so they turned to their own meals, with the former happily cutting away at the chicken he had ordered. Since America was busy, Denmark decided Pyrrha could answer some questions. America would say he was just being polite but… well…

Yeah, Denmark was definitely and obviously just being nosy and fishing for information. America knew the nations were curious but he  _wasn't_  sharing dammit.

"So how are do you like your new job so far, Ms. Nikos?" Denmark asked.

"It is certainly interesting." Pyrrha responded vaguely.

 _Yes,_  America thought vehemently, staring intently at a burnt fry on his plate.  _Play the game. Talk him in circles. Do it._

"It must be strange going from your normal life to accompanying one of us." Finland said, much more politely than Denmark.

"It was. I'd like to think I've adjusted." Pyrrha said, revealing nothing specific.

"Have you had to defend him yet?" Denmark asked eagerly.

"Matthias." Norway said, exasperated.

Pyrrha maintained her polite smile. Only America saw the hard edge to it. "A few times."

Denmark leaned forward eagerly. "What's the story—?

Norway tugged on his tie warningly, eliciting a strangled yelp from him.

"Mister Alfred?" Alfred tensed, glancing at Sealand. He knew the boy was older than he looked— he was a micronation, after all— but he was still just a  _kid_. It would be cruel to rebuff him.

"Yes?"

Upon receiving his response, Sealand grew emboldened, perking up in his seat. "How did you lose your eye?"

Alfred's glass shattered in his hand, sending fragments onto the table and his lap. His Aura protected him and he looked at the glittering shards, more frustrated than alarmed. At least he only ordered water and not soda like he usually would. A waitress hurried over to him and helped him clean up.

"Sorry. I squeezed it too tightly." He apologized.

"It's fine. It happens." The waitress reassured him.

America brushed off his pants into the dustpan she brought with her, pretending not to hear Finland scolding Sealand about the personal question.

"—can't just  _ask_  someone that, Peter!"

"Sorry, Mister Alfred." Sealand mumbled, looking down.

"It's alright." America said stiffly. He did not elaborate or offer an explanation for his eye. Let the others think what they wanted.

"So what happened?" Denmark asked.

" _Matthias_." Norway sighed.

"What?" Denmark objected. "We're all curious. We tend to heal up from everything so how'd he lose it?"

America glowered at the last of his fries, closing his blue eye in case it flashed green. "I didn't lose my eye."

"Then why are you wearing that eyepatch?" Denmark asked.

America could feel the other nations listening in on the conversation.  _Assholes_. He stood abruptly. "Thank you for the meal. I have to—"

_Crash!_

America grabbed Finland's steak knife, whirling towards the sound as he settled into a balanced stance. Pyrrha was on her feet as well, hand twitching towards her waist, but the source of the noise was merely a glass one of the nations— Belgium— smacked off the table. She turned red, eying them nervously.

"Er. I didn't— Sorry." She stammered.

Her table busied themselves with cleaning up the glass. America and Pyrrha slowly sat down, and the nation set the knife back on the table. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins, and although he cursed himself for his overreaction, he congratulated himself for not sparking or turning his blue eye green. A hand landed on his arm and his muscles went taut. He jerked away from Norway, who backed off apologetically.

"Are you okay?" Norway asked gently.

America nodded, chest heaving. "Fine. The crash just— I thought Atlas was coming back for—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Pyrrha, let's go."

She left money for her meal and followed him out. America heard the nations whispering behind him but didn't care. He needed to leave. They could stick their noses in other people's business. America dragged a shaking hand over his face as he walked back to the conference building.

"How are you doing?" Pyrrha asked.

"Absolutely awful." America admitted. "I knew they'd ask but I didn't think they'd be so forward about it."

"Curiosity can bring out the worst in people." Pyrrha said.

America snorted. "You were getting annoyed by their prodding too?"

"A bit." She demurred. "I understand they want to know, but find their methods… lacking."

America glared at a loose stone on the sidewalk, resisting the urge to kick it. That could get him in trouble if it hit somebody. "I get that I'm a nation but they're acting like this is their business." He and Pyrrha entered the meeting hall. "It is, in a way, but not like  _that_. It's like they feel I  _owe_  them an explanation for what happened. It's  _infuriating_."

"America?"

Alfred closed his eyes but forced himself to look at the nervous speaker instead of running away. The brown-haired nation he had been sitting next to— Lithuania— hovered near the door. Poland hovered nearby, looking torn between curiosity and guilt. At least one person seemed remorseful about badgering him and talking about him behind his back.

"Hello." America said with the minimal amount of enthusiasm.

Despite his rudeness, Lithuania's expression remained kind. "It's been a while. We didn't get a chance to talk earlier. How was your lunch?"

"A disaster." America said shortly. He winced. "Sorry, that was harsh."

"But also true, from what I heard." Lithuania said.

America grimaced. "You heard all that?"

"Like, it wasn't hard." Poland said. America pinned him with a stare and he yelped. "What's with that face?!"

Lithuania's brows pinched together. "Are you okay?"

 _DAMMIT. NO I AM NOT OKAY. I AM NOT THE SLIGHTEST BIT OKAY_.  _WHY WON'T PEOPLE LEAVE ME ALONE?!_

America held back his thoughts and forced a smile. "I'm great." he lied. "Just a little… overwhelmed."

Lithuania's visage softened. "I suppose returning to this after what you went through is difficult."

America gave a bitter bark of a laugh. "Yeah. Being abducted, tortured, and experimented on left me a bit twitchy." He shuddered, thinking of the eyes he could still feel on him. "The damn scientists and guards always used to watch me too…"

Poland gasped.

Lithuania's eyes widened.

 _Shit_. He did  _not_  mean to say that out loud. "I'm rambling. Just forget it." Memory clicked and he jumped on the new topic with the desperation of a drowning man. "Tony told me you helped take care of Uni and the others while I was gone. Thanks for that."

"You're welcome." Lithuania said warmly. "Anything for a friend."

 _Are we friends?_  America wanted to ask. Frustration bubbled in his chest. Why couldn't his memories come back  _now_? Why did it always have to be so situational or traumatic? Why why why why  _why_ —?

"Al!" Canada hurried over to him, all smiles. Apparently his lunch had gone better than America's. "How was lunch with Finland and the others?"

"The world is filled with nosy jerks." America said bluntly. "Can I go back into isolation, please?"

"I'm afraid not." Canada said apologetically.

"Hold on a second." Poland said, squinting at Pyrrha. "I recognize you now. You're that girl that returned with America and the others."

The few nations within listening distance turned to stare at the champion.

America threw his hands up into the air. "I'm going back into isolation." He declared and stormed into the meeting room.

Pyrrha followed without responding to Poland and the door clicked shut behind them. Germany was the only one inside, thank God.

He took one look at America's face and grimaced. "I see the others are still hounding you for answers."

"You  _think_?" America growled. "And it's only me too."

"That's because you are usually the most talkative one." Germany revealed.

"Right now I'm not." America sat in his old seat, slouching. His leg hit something. He glanced down and was pleased to see Cobalt Striker laying there. He picked up the bat and put it back on.

Germany studied him carefully, blue eyes revealing none of his thoughts. "You were always one of the most open nations…" he murmured, almost to himself. "In fact, it was rare that you kept anything to yourself."

America snorted. "So I'm reinforcing something is wrong with me with everything I do and say then. Great. I might as well just tell them the truth so they can pity—"  _And try to manipulate_. "—me."

"You don't mean that." Germany chided.

America slumped, sighing. "You're right. I don't." he agreed. "I just want this meeting to end." He coughed dramatically and raised his hand. "Hey, man-in-charge? I'm sick. Can I go home?"

"If you do that they'll become more curious. Some of them know where your penthouse is." Germany warned.

America sighed again. "Why am I even bothering?"

"Because the truth will cause trouble if it is revealed now." Germany said wisely.

"Trouble already happens by itself." America muttered and Pyrrha shot him a sympathetic look.

The door opened and Lithuania and Poland walked in. The brown-haired nation hesitated and took his seat next to America.

"America?" America turned his head fully to look at him. Green eyes flicked to his eyepatch and away. "I'm sorry if we upset you."

"It's okay. You didn't upset me. I'm just being sensitive." America claimed tiredly. "I'm not used to people anymore."

"I can tell." Lithuania said. "You're… different."

"I  _know_." America said, maybe with a bit too much pain in his voice because Lithuania flinched.

The other nations came back in a couple at a time. Once they all arrived, the meeting continued. Some tried to catch America's eye but he ignored them, doodling on his notepad. He took mental note of new names and breathed a sigh of relief when no one else tried to bring up Atlas again. The peace did not last when two nations— Turkey and Greece— got into an argument.

Tuning out their words, America thought of everywhere else he could be. He could be in the Statue of Liberty, or exploring ruins in Rome, or with Canada in his country. He could be back home in bed with a nice comic book, or playing games with Japan, or merely sitting somewhere while England read beside him. Anyplace felt better and less time-wasting than this meeting.

The stares were still going, and they told America just how out of place he really was. The desire to get up and just tell them that  _yes_ , he wasn't the old America they knew so they could  _leave him alone_  was getting stronger. He knew he wasn't himself okay? He didn't need them to tell him that he was acting weird and strange and not himself and damaged—

Canada yelped. The sound was soft, barely audible above Turkey and Greece's argument, but to America it was like a gunshot. He looked to his brother to see him grimacing, his arm in a female nation's— Belarus's?— grasp. And was that a  _knife_ in her other—?

America stood, his chair crashing to the floor and unsheathed Cobalt Striker, pointing it at Belarus. "Release my brother."

All of the nations froze and their bickering ceased. Belarus looked at him, seemingly perplexed by his reaction. America was not fooled.

"I'm just asking him what my big brother has been up to." She claimed. "He wouldn't answ—"

"Release. Canada." America interrupted in a growl. He twisted the handle of the bat, transforming it into its shotgun form.

A few nations jumped, startled by the transformation.

America ignored them. "I see that knife. You have five seconds to drop it."

"America—" Germany began.

"Four." America stated.

Belarus's eyes narrowed.

"Three."

"He's gone crazy." Someone whimpered.

"Two."

Belarus dropped the knife. More accurately, it jerked from her hand and fell to the floor. She startled slightly, frowning. America did not look at Pyrrha, mentally thanking her.

"You okay, Mattie?" he asked, lowering his weapon.

"Fine." Canada said quickly. "You didn't have to—"

"She  _pulled a knife on you_." America snarled.

He felt a familiar prickle and closed his eyes, struggling not to let the burning lightning flicker over his skin. He did not completely succeed, feeling the slight— and literal— shift in the atmosphere around him. The nation on Pyrrha's other side— Austria, that was his name— eyed him warily and scooted away towards Hungary.

"Why is Mister America acting so scary?" America heard a small, blond-haired nation— Latvia— whisper nervously.

"Because I've been through some shit." America replied in a raspy, strained voice, making Latvia jump.

He almost felt bad for being harsh and calling the small nation out. Almost, but not quite. He was, to be frank, tired of pretending to be anything close to fine. He exhaled harshly, shoving the lightning back down and extinguishing the fire that sparked eagerly in his veins. He sat back in his chair, tired, angry, and just wanting to leave already. This was a waste of time. All they accomplished was absolutely nothing. Instead they were squabbling like children. He had been joking earlier but isolation was looking more and more inviting.

Stupid nations. Stupid world. Stupid amnesia. Stupid trauma. Stupid  _everything_.

Why couldn't people just leave him  _alone?_

Germany cleared his throat awkwardly. "Continuing on. Next up is—"

_Beep-a-chirp. Beep-a-chirp. Beep-a-chirp._

France shrieked, jumping in his seat and clutching at his chest at the high-pitched tone. It kept going and he realized it was coming from his pocket. The nation scrambled at his jacket, cheeks red.

England snorted. "Really, frog? You forgot to—"

_Beep beep beep beep beep._

England's ears colored as his own phone went off. Almost like that was a signal, other phones joined in, all beeping, chirping and squealing in tandem. For a moment, America considered that his Semblance might be acting up, but normally the lights would flicker if he was irritated instead of… whatever this was.

England, France, Canada, China, Australia, Russia, Prussia, Romano, Italy and a shamefaced Japan all patted at their pockets. Even America and Pyrrha's phones started wailing. Huh. He swore he muted it.

Germany massaged his temples. "I cannot believe this. We are in a  _meeting_. You all should know to have your phones on silent. It is unprofessional—"

_Beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep._

Germany looked at his pocket with a dawning horrified expression.

Prussia laughed. "Kesese! Speak for yourself, brother."

"Prussia." Germany said tersely. "I only have alarms on."

Something in his tone made America wary. Pyrrha heard the same uneasiness and stiffened.

Prussia didn't notice. He smirked. "Of course you have little reminders."

"Not reminders." Germany said lowly. " _Warnings_."

"Mon dieu." France breathed, staring at his phone.

It was then America realized what was going on.

He tore his phone out of his pocket, opening the message. A list of places appeared on the screen and he was forced to scroll down. Even then, he could not read them all, but one particular location caught his gaze. He met Pyrrha's eyes and the champion stared back, skin ashen.

America jerked to his feet. "Mattie, get the crate from my car. Ivan, go with him."

Canada deployed Maple Frost into its rifle form, making multiple nations jump. He and Russia ignored them, running out the door. Some nations got to their feet, and many who had weapons on them— both aware and unaware of the full situation— pulled them out.

America looked to England. "Arthur—"

"I'm already setting up a barrier. They won't be able to get out into the city and no one can get in. We need to put up a misdirection and silencing field." England said, tone clipped. The end of his staff glowed with a menacing green light and his equally green eyes landed on two particular nations. "Norway, Romania  _help me_."

They went to his side without hesitation, drawing something on the floor. America saw a brief flicker of light out the window.

"What's going on?" Liechtenstein asked.

"Why are you acting like we're about to be attacked?" Switzerland demanded.

"Because we  _are_." England snapped.

" _What?!_ " Latvia screamed.

The nations murmured to each other, some confused, others panicked. None of those aware of Remnant responded to them. Canada and Russia returned with the crate. America shoved past a few nations— ignoring their questions— and opened it.

"France." he said.

The nation blinked and caught the object America threw at him. He studied it and his eyes went round with comprehension. "Is this—?"

"Russia." America interrupted.

Ivan caught his with a startled grin.

"Australia. China. Japan. Prussia. Germany. Romano. Italy."

America handed them each a weapon, receiving a mixture of reactions. Australia and Prussia grinned eagerly. Japan and Germany looked solemn. China was surprised. Romano and Italy were terrified.

"W-What is  _this_?" Romano stammered, holding his weapon away from his body like he was afraid it would bite him.

"A Roman scissor-shield-pump action rifle combination weapon." America explained briefly. "I know you can use it."

Prussia brushed his hands along his weapon, which currently lay in its sniper rifle form. He pressed something and it transformed into an arming sword. Grinning, Prussia pressed another button and it extended into a glaive. He laughed aloud. "It's beautiful!"

"What is this masterpiece?" Russia questioned, running his fingers along the yellow axe America gave him.

"Axe-submachine gun combo." America explained rapidly.

Russia blinked, perplexed. "You made this for  _me_?"

America nodded. "Yes, I did. Good thing I did, too."

Russia's smile reached his eyes, warming the usually cold violet.

Italy inhaled sharply, skin pale and covered in sweat. His sword-pistol trembled in his hands and America quickly realized he was hyperventilating. Japan placed his katana-revolver in its sheathe and rushed to his friend's side, grasping his shoulders.

"Italy, you need to calm down." He urged him. "You'll draw them  _right to us_."

Italy blanched. He was not the only one, and terrified murmurs started up throughout the room.

"Draw  _what_  to us?" Estonia demanded shakily. " _What is going on?!_ "

"We're being invaded." Germany stated, hefting his ahlspiess-semi-automatic rifle over his shoulder. "Some of the enemies are outside."

"Is it the Pict?" Belgium asked worriedly.

"Worse." Russia stated. "It is demonic monsters."

"Stop scaring them." England snapped. "You know they're attracted to fear."

The Brit's words did exactly what he didn't want them to do. A few nations panicked, shouting over each other in an attempt to be heard.

"We're going to die!" Latvia sobbed.

"No one is going to die." America growled. "Italy, Romano, Prussia, Germany, Japan; stay here with the others. England, Romania, Norway; keep that barrier up. They  _can't_  get into the city. The rest of you are coming to take the Grimm out."

"Grimm?" Poland whispered to Lithuania.

"We'll explain after the battle." Australia promised. He balanced his new boomerang— which split into dual daggers and pistols— on one hand. "Let's hope these ones aren't as nasty as the last."

Pyrrha grabbed her belt and yanked it off, pressing a button. It straightened into Miló's upgraded javelin form, eliciting gasps from the unaware nations. America, Pyrrha, Canada, France, Russia, Australia, and China ran out the door before they could ask more. The blond-haired nation slowed so he ran beside China.

"On second thought, maybe you should—"

"I will not stay behind with the defense team. We do not know how many Grimm came through." China interrupted. "I want to see these 'Grimm' for myself. And I am armed and very dangerous, aru." He waved his two tonfa-shotguns eagerly.

America almost chuckled but did not quite manage it. "Just a heads up: they're terrifying to look at.  _Don't freeze_. And stick together. They like to isolate people from the group, overwhelm them, and kill them or drag them off."

China grimaced. "I understand."

"What about Australia and China's Aura?" Pyrrha asked.

America winced. "I'm sorry, but we can't afford the energy drain right now."

"It is fine, aru." China assured him.

"There are cameras everywhere outside." Canada informed them gravely. "Our bosses will know what happened."

America closed his eyes, biting his lip. "We'll deal with that later. For now, let's take the Grimm out." He paused. "There's cameras?"

"That's what I just—"

Canada stopped when America pulled out his phone, hacking into the cameras. He got clear views of the area around the building and the park. Grimm crawled through the small area, snarling, and he knew it was only because of England's shield— and maybe a misdirection spell?— that kept people from stumbling upon them and freaking out. Most importantly, it was keeping the Grimm inside the area.

_I won't let New York City become Vale 2.0._

There weren't enough Grimm for the city to be overwhelmed, but one on the loose could spell trouble.

"I do not see any Spawners like the Dragon." Russia commented.

"There's Grimm that can spawn more Grimm?" China asked nervously.

America barely twitched when pain lanced through his chest. "Yeah. Do you have any questions about your weapons?"

"Non." France said, weighing his sabre-Glock pistol in his hand. "The functionality is not difficult to discern."

"Mind your ammo." America said. "I don't have much to spare."

"If we run out we still have close-range weapons." Russia said.

America laughed shortly. "That's the point."

They reached the doors. Through the cameras, America saw multiple Grimm outside, sniffing around. He recognized Beowolves, Ursas, King Taijitus, and Creeps, but there were a few lesser-known Grimm that worried him.

"We got any surprises out there?" Australia asked.

"None like the Karkadann." Pyrrha assured him. "…That I can see."

"Great." Australia hefted his boomerang. "Ready when you are."

America nodded. "France, China, try to stay near the door. We don't want to lose one in the building."

"They'll head right for the others." France commented.

"Most likely." The Grimm were already running towards the building. "Stick with a partner as much as possible. On my mark."

The nations and Pyrrha readied themselves, some holding their weapons more confidently than others. America gave the command and they burst through the doors, shutting them behind them and locking them tight. France and China took positions in front of the doors, while Canada shot himself up to the roof, taking position there with his weapon in rifle form. America, Pyrrha, Australia, and Russia met the charging Grimm head on.

America slashed a Beowolf, shot an Ursa, smashed a Creep so hard its skull caved in, always moving and always keeping an eye on his companions. Australia refrained from tossing his boomerang at first, shooting distant enemies and stabbing those that came near, but America saw the point where he comprehended what he had, and he threw the boomerang, the large weapon slicing clean through seven Grimm before returning to his hand.

"This is  _ace_!" he shouted.

"I disagree!" France said tersely as he gracefully stabbed an Ursa in the mouth. He yanked his sabre free and turned, throwing it through another Grimm's head.

"You  _have a gun_." America reminded him as the Frenchman ran to retrieve his weapon. " _Use_  it."

"With pleasure." France grunted. He twisted his sabre and aimed the newly-formed barrel, firing. Each shot hit its mark.

China struck a Creep, breaking its jaw and breaking it down. He evaded its melting corpse, expression twisted with disgust. "These creatures are  _horrifying_ , aru."

"Imagine living in a world filled with them." America murmured.

China's face hardened and he kicked a Beowolf that was rushing him. It was telling that the strike— even without Aura— caved its skull in and brought it down. More Grimm emerged from the park, snarling and creeping forward as they eyed the nations hungrily. America frowned at them, lowering his weapon slightly.

 _They already know who I am_ , America thought.

He raised a hand and blasted the Grimm around him to ashes with lightning.

Russia pouted. "Cheater."

"There's plenty more." America said. He nodded at the park. "We have to head out."

"Keep in contact." Canada urged.

He aimed his sniper rifle and fired into the park, causing a distant wolf-shaped figure to fall. America wanted to ask why he wasn't using Mantle's Semblance but let it go. Mattie was probably too tired to. He could stay where he was to help.

"We will." America promised.

They raced into the park. A few animals that found their home there had fled into their burrows, leaving the Grimm prowling through the green grass and trees. A few of them attacked the benches places along the paths, enraged by the simple sight of anything manmade, but they soon turned their attention to the nations.

Mindful of his dwindling ammo, America killed a few with lightning. Pyrrha threw a broken bench at others, and their shadowy flesh proved defenseless against the jagged metal thrown at high speeds. Russia brought out his submachine gun and mowed through another horde.

"How many are there?" Australia asked.

"Too many." America said tightly.

"We can handle them." Australia reassured him.

America shook his head. "That's not what I meant. There should be  _none_  on this world."

Australia did not have a response to that.

They cleared the park and hurried to the edge of England's shield, checking it. The Grimm scratched at the invisible shield and pressed against it, unable to pass. Oblivious to the danger, the civilians outside walked by without seeing the monsters or hearing anything amiss. America thanked England for his quick thinking and plowed through a line of them.

Unfamiliar gunfire drew his attention to the building and he raced back to see a Beowolf fall from the window. Screams came from within and Switzerland poked his head out, firing twice more until its body faded.

"What the hell was that?!" America heard someone inside yell.

Switzerland spotted America and glowered at him. "You owe us an explanation."

"Later." America promised.

He shoved a Beowolf scaling the wall off with wind and stabbed it with his bayonet. Its body faded into nothingness. Pyrrha slammed into another creature with a makeshift garbage lid as a shield. They really should have forged her a new one—

America dodged below a Beowolf's swipe, firing through its skull.

"America!" He looked up at Finland, who waved frantically from the window. Terrified violet eyes met his and Finland pulled himself onto the windowsill.

"Stay inside." America urged him before he could attempt to exit the window. "Have any Grimm gotten in?"

"No." Germany told him.

"They keep trying." Switzerland growled.

"I can't find Sealand!" Finland interrupted, panicked.

A chill went through America. "We'll find him." He said quickly.

Sweden pulled Finland back inside and America and the others retreated away from the window.

"You two check the park." He told Russia and Australia.

"Got it." Australia agreed. "Come on, Ivan."

They split up, leaving America with Pyrrha. The hairs on his neck prickled and he looked around warily before taking out his phone. "Pyrrha, can you guard while I search for him on the cameras?"

"Of course." She agreed.

America flipped through the feed, ignoring the headache he could feel building behind his eyes. At first, he couldn't find the missing micronation, but he caught a glimpse of blue where it shouldn't be near a wall. Sealand was almost out of sight, hiding behind what appeared to be some type of air conditioner. The cloth covering the equipment almost covered him but America could see his shoe sticking out. The Grimm had not noticed him yet but it wouldn't be long until they turned their attention to the child.

"Found him. Come on."

They ran to Sealand, not calling his name because the last thing they needed was for the child to wander out of hiding. The Grimm came for them anyway, but between the two of them they tore through their enemies within minutes. But as every second passed, America's unease grew. They had to get to Sealand before—

America turned a corner and his heart stopped.

In front of him, Sealand stood in the open, staring blankly at an Ursa Major as it bore down on him with its jaws open wide. America put on a burst of speed and shoved the micronation aside, stumbling into the Ursa's path, and he tensed in preparation for the blow. Something hit him, pushing him out of harm's way, and he caught a glimpse of red.

His and Pyrrha's eyes locked, and the Ursa's paw slammed down on her. The champion's weapon flew from her hand as she crumpled with a scream, pinned beneath the giant paw. The Ursa Major roared in her face, blowing her hair back. A bullet hit its mask, bouncing up, and it looked up in annoyance, pressing down on Pyrrha. She gave a pained gasp and America lunged, only to be swatted away like a fly.

He struck the wall head-first and slid down, eyes fluttering. Something slid down his face and he had been cut. Distantly, he heard screaming, and he identified it as Sealand. He stumbled to his feet, staggering slightly as his vision doubled, but Pyrrha had managed to get her arm free. She swung it in an arc and Miló came at her command, soaring cleanly through the Ursa's neck. It's corpse fell on top of her.

" _Pyrrha!_ "

America gathered his wits and scrambled to his feet, shoving the decaying body off of his friend. Laying on her back, Pyrrha breathed heavily, skin pale and eyes round but managed to smile.

"I'm unharmed." She claimed.

America helped her sit up. "I doubt that. You're going to be one big bruise tomorrow."

"It could be worse." Pyrrha reminded him, touching her collar bone with a wince.

America definitely knew that was true. He looked to Sealand, ushering him over. "Stay close. We're getting you to your guardians."

"Thank you." Sealand said tremulously. "I thought the bear was going to kill me."

America wanted to make a retort that this was  _exactly_  why he shouldn't sneak around but held his tongue. Sealand may be a micronation but he was still just a kid. They made dumb mistakes.

"You're fine, kid." he said as gently as he could manage. "Come on."

They didn't run into any Grimm on the way back.

America remained close to Pyrrha with Sealand running between them. The boy had to work to keep up with them but America was not sure if they were safe yet. Finland dove out the window the moment he saw Sealand, with Sweden following much more gracefully behind.

"Peter!"

Sealand rushed to him, hugging him tightly. "I'm okay. Mister America and Ms. Nikos saved me."

America's phone rang. He picked it up. "Status?"

" _The rest of the Grimm are dead."_  Canada reported.  _"Russia and Australia are doing a final sweep but I think we're in the clear."_

America could breathe again. "Good. That's good. See you soon." He hung up and dragged a shaking hand over his face.

"Is everything okay?" Germany asked.

America nodded. "Yeah. We got them." He thought of the other places listed in the message and grimaced.  _The ones here anyway._

"What is 'them'?" Switzerland challenged.

America looked through the window to see the nations all staring at him. Just like the last time, it left him tired. Unlike last time, there was no anger or annoyance to bolster him. The door was too far away so he climbed through the window. The nations parted before him, grateful, fearful, confused, or suspicious. America found England's green eyes in the crowd, then found Mattie as his brother and the others returned through the proper door. Alfred looked back at England and nodded once.

"Tell them." He said dully, feeling as if he were signing his death sentence.

A conflicted expression passed over his big brother's face. Then England sighed and straightened his shoulders.

And he told the nations of Earth the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Matthias technically isn't Denmark's 'canon' human name (as in it's not one of the ones given by the author) but it's the most commonly used/recognizable one so I'm using it.


	25. The Cruelty of Humanity

Yang picked up the chain around her ankle, letting it rattle, and set it down. She did it again, rattling it, and once again let it drop. Any hopes of annoying the guards outside proved to be fruitless for they continued to ignore her. Things could be worse. They could also be a hell of a lot better. Her team had woken in cells somewhere with killer headaches and chains around their ankles. Yang guessed they still were in Roman's building because Mercury was lingering and the orange-haired criminal himself had come down to mock them already.

Their earpieces were gone, crushed under Roman's boot and leaving them with no way to contact Ruby and the others. Yang's prosthetic arm had also been removed. It lay in her line of sight with the rest of their weapons, in the room but unable to be reached. Roman tossed them there intentionally, mocking them with the sight.

The weapons were as useless on that table as their arms, with metal bars and chains keeping them from escape. With the exception of Nora, they were given electric shocks to continually knock out their Auras and keep them from regenerating. Mercury had specifically told the guards not to use electricity on Nora. When asked, he'd laughed in her face.

" _We know your Semblance, Ms. Valkyrie."_ He had said mockingly. _"You did openly display it during the Festival. Oobleck even explained it for us. We should send him a thank you card."_

Yang remembered the way Nora's teeth bared into a furious snarl. Was she upset at him, Oobleck, or herself? In hindsight, revealing their secret moves and Semblances during a live fighting Tournament for a  _school_  seemed awfully stupid, if not outright detrimental. They had always known there were human enemies out there, and those enemies had used their knowledge of their Semblances against them. If they'd shocked Nora once, the teens would already be on their way out of here. But the criminals didn't. So they were stuck.

Nora and Jaune had it the worst off. Ren was the easiest to knock down to mundane, and without her Aura, Yang only needed a couple jolts to deplete it again, unable to build up and use her Semblance to bust out. But Jaune and Nora were a different story. The criminals knew of Nora's Semblance, so they decided punching and kicking her was the best way to keep her Aura down. Whenever she heard the latest beatdown, Yang burned with rage but there was no fire to accompany it and break her free. She couldn't see her friend. All she knew was that she was conscious, giving the occasional quip despite the pain she must be in.

Jaune was in similar unlucky straits. His Aura replenished unnaturally fast, and he had a lot of it to boot. For every one time Yang got shocked, he had been electrocuted  _five_  times to keep him from regaining Aura. One of the guards was tasked with constantly watching the knight and pressing a button, though Yang could see him growing bored with his job. She could only hope he'd slip up and Jaune could take advantage of the situation.

_If he isn't in too bad of shape…_

"Yang?"

She cringed at the raspy hoarseness of Jaune's voice.  _Okay, he's definitely in bad shape._  "Yeah?"

"Do you think they're coming for us?" he asked softly.

Yang stared at the ceiling and grimaced. "Of course Ruby is."

She heard him shift, his chains clinking. "…That's not who I meant."

Yang chuckled. It came out bitter and cold. "Ozpin will probably leave us behind to go save the Relic. But Ruby won't. She and Weiss will find a way here."

Jaune shifted again and there was the crackle of electricity. Yang cringed, shutting her eyes but snapped them open to focus on sight so she couldn't hear him grunt. The flow stopped and he gave a shuddering sigh.

"Almost…" He trailed off.

"Almost what?" Yang asked.

There was no response.

"Vomit boy?" Yang called, pretending her voice didn't tremble. "Hey. Jaune?"

Silence.

Icy barbs latched onto Yang's lungs and she thrashed in her bonds. "Hey. Hey! Jaune!  _Answer me!_ "

"Jaune?" Nora asked faintly.

"What's happening?" Ren called from down the hall.

"Shut up!" one of the guards snapped. Yang saw him walk by to Jaune's cell. There was a muffled curse. "Roman said  _not_  to kill him."

Yang's heart stopped.

"H-He's not dead." The guard in charge of the shocks stammered.

"Check him." The second guard commanded.

There was a clink of keys going into the lock and rapid footsteps.

"There's a  _gck—!_ "

Someone yelled and the guards were flung into view, hitting the opposite wall. Jaune staggered out of his cell, keys in hand, and punched the second guard in the face, knocking him out cold.

Yang gaped at him. " _Jaune_?"

"Picked the manacle. Played dead." He said shortly, stopping in front of her cell. "Not that hard."

Looking at him, Yang could see why the guards believed they'd accidentally killed their prisoner. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken, and his blond hair in disarray. He fumbled with the keys, hands trembling, but eventually got it into the lock. He stumbled through the door, wincing as he hit the wall.

"Careful." Yang urged him.

Jaune pushed himself off the wall and undid her manacles, shoving a key at her. "Get Ren."

Yang did not argue with him. She quickly ran to Ren's cell, letting him out. The ninja was not nearly as bad as herself or Jaune. The moment he was free he ran out of the cell.

"Nora!"

Yang followed him, grabbing her arm as she passed and reattaching it. She stopped in front of Nora's cell and her eyes burned red. Jaune crouched at Nora's side, features pinched with distress as he gripped her limp hand. The orange-haired girl was a mess. Her face was more purple than skin colored, as was all of her visible flesh, and when she looked at Yang her eyes were glazed.

"You're out…" she mumbled, and her eyes slipped closed.

Jaune cursed and made as if to lift her. Ren got there first, scooping her up into his arms. The ninja said nothing, staring at his friend with an agonized expression Yang could not bear to look at.

"I counted the time between guards. We have two minutes. We need to move." Jaune said urgently.

Yang tossed the knight his armor. "We're going to have to fight our way out."

"What else is new?" Jaune said dryly as he shoved it on and grabbed his sword.

Yang stuck Ren's pistols in their sheathes and grabbed Nora's hammer. She hesitated and put it on her back. Two new criminals were walking in when they opened the door. Yang felt no remorse for punching their faces in and leaving them in the cells. No alarms blared just yet, and hopefully they'd have time before Roman's men swarmed them.

They ran through the cell block, with Jaune bringing up the back while Yang led; Ren carried Nora in the middle.

"What's the plan?" Yang asked.

"Steal the first vehicle we find and get out." Jaune said bluntly.

They emerged into a basement-like area filled with crates. Some were short and stacked atop each other while others were twice as tall as Jaune. The knight tensed, blue eyes roaming over them, and hurried over to one. Yang muttered a curse and followed as he lifted the cover off.

"I know curiosity is a thing but now is not the time—"

"It's filled with Dust." Jaune said tightly. "Don't fire in here or it could explode."

Yang would like to claim the pit that opened in her stomach was nonexistent and her knees didn't feel weak. "Got it." She managed.

Jaune grabbed some Dust for her weapons and glanced across the room, diving down behind the crate. Yang and Ren followed suit, with the latter awkwardly holding Nora. The orange-haired girl's head lolled. Jaune grimaced and silently took her from Ren, shaking his head to silence any protests, then put her on Ren's back. The ninja understood what he was doing and held her arms, holding her more easily in a fireman's carry.

From behind their impromptu cover, Yang listened intently for the criminals' footsteps, holding her breath as they walked by on the other side. Their voices and footsteps faded and she glanced at Jaune. The knight nodded sharply.

They ran from cover, keeping low and sneaking along the edge of the large room. The space between the wall and crates was barely wide enough for Jaune to fit through but they managed, relying on background noises like the roar of an air conditioner and the sounds of machinery to move undetected. Jaune peered over a crate and ducked back down.

"Yang," he whispered. "There's a van."

Yang poked her head out of cover and saw he was right. She dove back down. "Aren't we still underground?"

"I don't know." Jaune said. "But I think that's a shipment. It has to lead outside somewhere. Maybe through a tunnel?"

"How many guys?" she asked.

He peered over a crate. "I see four."

"There's five near the van." Ren corrected tightly. "Thirty-two on this level."

Yang nodded in thanks. "Think we can take them in time?"

"The keys should be in the ignition." Jaune murmured. "I'll take short-range, you pick off the ones that come at us. Only use your shotguns when they notice us. Pyr—" He glanced at the empty space behind him and flinched. "I mean, Ren—" The ninja stared at him hollowly, gripping Nora's wrist with white-knuckled fingers. "— as soon as it's clear, lay Nora down."

Yang had a feeling the knight had amended what he was going to say, his pinched features suggesting he had forgotten their injured teammate. And the one that was no longer there.

She took a shuddering breath. "Ready when you are, Jaune."

He nodded and they crept closer to the van. Yang peered around the corner, watching two grunts carry a crate into the open back. They were on the driver's side of the vehicle, but luckily there was no driver in sight. It would suck for the criminal to panic and take their ride. One of the grunts stopped in front of their hiding place, back to them as he wiped at his brow with a cloth. She glanced at Jaune and he nodded.

The knight darted out of cover, clamping a hand over the grunt's mouth as he silently stabbed him through the back. The grunt slumped with a soft gurgle and Jaune dragged his body behind the crates. The other criminals failed to see the attack, emerging from the back of the van. One of them paused, looking around.

"Where'd Slick go—?"

Yang's fist met his nose with a crunch and he dropped like a bag of bricks. Jaune tackled the grunt's partner sword-first, eliciting a garbled scream from the man before he passed. The other two grunts dropped the crate they were holding in a panic— nearly giving Yang a heart attack— but she brought them down with two shots. Gunfire sprayed the area and Yang and Jaune ducked into the van, cringing as bullets tore through the metal plating.

"Hold your fire you idiots!" someone shouted outside. "Do you  _want_  to cause an explosion?"

An alarm started blaring, turning everything red. Ren was already in the back of the van, having laid Nora down between the crates. Yang did not have time to check over the girl yet. She slammed the back of the van closed, reopening one door slightly to fire at the criminals. She purposely aimed at the floor and not the crates but they still dove for cover in a panic.

Jaune climbed into the front and grimaced. "The keys aren't here. Anyone know how to hotwire a car?"

"Don't tell my dad." Yang said, shoving past him and diving under the wheel.

The vehicle started with a roar and she pressed on the gas, squealing the tires as she peeled out of the warehouse. They drove into a low tunnel, nearly hitting the walls, checking the mirror. They didn't have any 'friends' in pursuit yet but that would probably change once they emerged from the tunnel.

"Any idea where this leads?" she asked rhetorically.

"If we're lucky, into the city." Jaune said. "If we're unlucky, inside some gates."

"We'll bust through." Yang growled.

"I don't think this can drive through a wall." Jaune mentioned.

"Jaune!" Ren called, voice strained. "I need help."

Jaune climbed into the back, crouching down next to his friends. "Talk to me."

"Her Aura isn't regenerating fast enough." Ren said tightly. "And I think she's bleeding internally. She needs medical attention."

Yang heard the wheel crack in her grip. "We can't go to a hospital. They're all in some criminal's pocket. Maybe even Torchwick's."

She heard Jaune inhale sharply. Before she could ask, they emerged from the tunnel and below a cloudy grey sky. Yang's relief that they were out on a street was short-lived as she heard the tell-tale roar of engines. She glanced in the mirror and cursed.

"And company's here."

Yang yanked on the wheel, turning down a side street, and the unmarked cars followed them. She counted at least five, maybe more. At least traffic was on her side. The street was mostly empty except for a few bystanders, some of whom ran for cover. Most kept going about their business, apathetic to the chase.

_They're probably used to it._

"Any idea where we are?" she asked. "I'd like to get out of the city."

Jaune poked his head into the front but ducked as gunfire struck the side of the vehicle. Yang turned down another street, whispering apologies as she drove on the sidewalk. A few unlucky bystanders dove out of her way but she managed to avoid hitting anyone. She turned back onto the street and grimaced.

_A car chase is much easier in a motorcycle._

She glanced in the mirror as one of the pursuing cars hit a street lamp, its hood crumpling like soggy paper. The other cars continued the chase, with a goon leaning out the passenger side and firing at them. Yang flinched when one of the shots hit her window.

"Ren. I need you to return fire. Take out their tires." The ninja did not move from Nora's side. "Ren,  _please_."

The ninja looked at her. Yang pretended not to notice the tears in his eyes. He squeezed Nora's limp hand and stood, removing StormFlower from their holsters. He opened the back door, firing twice, and the car behind them swerved, crashing into its fellow and causing the ones behind it to slam on the brakes. Ren shut the door, glancing out the back window with a tight expression.

Yang risked a glance at Nora and forced her eyes away, blinking rapidly. She was pale and still, both things the boisterous girl should never be. Only the harsh movements of her chest showed she still breathed, but Yang could see her respiration slowing. Her hands trembled and her mind went blank, refusing to accept what was happening. She heard Ren inhale shakily, the breath hitching like he was holding back a sob, and Jaune released a gut-wrenching moan that made Yang's heart sink.

"Come on, Nora. Don't leave." He pleaded.

Yang risked a look and instantly regretted it. The bruises on Nora's face stood out starkly against her ashen skin, and although her expression was peaceful, her eyes closed as if in sleep, she was too still. The heaving of her chest had become only a small, occasional twitch, and Yang blinked back tears, swerving to avoid a collision with another car.

Jaune barely noticed the jostling, gripping Nora's hand desperately. "No, no,  _no_." he sobbed. "This can't happen again!"

Yang forced her gaze to remain forward, unable to risk looking at him as he wept. It was only because of the rearview mirror that Yang saw the glow. She heard Ren gasp and risked a glance, eyes going round as shimmering white light covered Nora's body. Before their eyes, her bruises began to fade, and her breathing grew easier.

"What…?" Jaune whispered, staring at his glowing hands.

"You're  _healing_  her." Yang realized.

Jaune carefully lifted his shimmering hands and stared as white light drifted from him to his friend, the bruises shrinking rapidly. He returned his hands to Nora's and slowly shook his head. "That's not it. In the cell, I think I amplified my Aura. I made it come back faster."

"So you're buffing Nora's Aura right now?" Yang asked.

"I think so." Jaune murmured.

Nora's eyes fluttered and a smile stretched across his face. The orange-haired girl squinted at him, eyes cloudy and slightly puzzled, but with each passing second they grew clearer. She turned her head and looked at Ren.

Ren's lips twitched and Yang could almost pretend not to see the tears dripping down his cheeks. "It's about time you woke up, lazybutt." He choked.

"That's my line." She said faintly. Nora tried to sit up but Ren pushed her back down gently. She noticed the white light covering her and blinked. "What's the light show?"

"Semblance." Jaune said with a watery, relieved laugh.

"You found it. Yay." Nora mumbled. "Pyrrha'd be proud."

Jaune shuddered, blinking suspiciously glassy eyes. "Yeah."

A bullet struck Yang's driver-side mirror and she flinched. "Not to interrupt the moment but I could really use some help, Ren."

The ninja nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. He fired twice, taking out another car, but five more pulled up behind them.

Ren grimaced. "I have an idea I think Nora would appreciate."

Nora turned her head, a smile stretching across her face, and if not for the paleness of her skin Yang might believe she was perfectly fine. "Do it!"

Ren got back into the cargo portion. "Jaune, I need you for a second." He said, his tone suggesting he loathed himself for his request.

Jaune carefully stood and the white light trailed from his fingers, still attached to Nora. "I still have her."

Ren relaxed. "Good. On three, shove the crates." He grabbed the door handle. Jaune planted his feet behind a crate of Dust. "One… two… three!"

Ren yanked the door open and Jaune pushed the crate out. StormFlower aimed and Ren fired as the crate struck the road. The explosion made the van swerve and shake but Yang got it under control. The pursuing criminals weren't so lucky. The fire ignited the Dust in the vehicles and they exploded, causing a fireball to plume into the sky.

Nora watched the pyrotechnics and chuckled. "Well, aren't you a man after my own heart."

"I knew you'd approve." Ren said gently.

Yang turned down another street and instantly regretted it. " _Shit!_ "

She slammed on the brakes and felt Jaune hit the back of her seat. The van screeched to a halt, rocking and swerving, and it was only through luck that it did not tip over. They halted, and Yang stared at the line of cars and criminals that waited for them, reminding her of a police blockade. At least fifty guns pointed at the immobile van.

"I think that they herded us here." Ren commented levelly.

"You  _think_?!" Yang growled.

She scanned the line and was surprised Roman and Mercury weren't there to gloat. They seemed like the type, unless they had other priorities. Yang viciously hoped their new boss had found out about the teens' escape. The time limit Roman had given Ruby wasn't over yet—

Yang dove into the back as gunfire tore through the windshield, shattering it. Jaune yanked her behind him and brought his shield up, while Ren crouched protectively over Nora. The girl did not complain, though she did wince when a bullet pinged over her head.

"Plan?"

There was a popping sound.

"I think those were our tires." Yang said tightly. "Jaune, how's your Aura?"

"Slowly draining." Jaune admitted, still buffing Nora's. The color was returning to the orange-haired girl's skin and she prodded at the back of her leader's leg.

"Stop helping me. Use your Semblance on Yang." Nora said.

Jaune hesitated. "I—"

"My insides don't feel like mincemeat anymore." Nora told him firmly, and Yang cringed. "So help Yang. Your Semblance and hers can get us out."

Jaune bit his lip, ducking his head as another bullet put a new hole in the van. "What do you think?"

"I think we're sitting ducks if we stay here." Yang admitted.

Jaune was unamused. "Can you take them out?"

"Yes." Yang said more confidently than she felt.

Jaune nodded. "Give me your hand."

She grasped his hand with her flesh one and watched the white light detach from Nora. As it washed over her, she shivered. It reminded her of the warm rush she felt when her Semblance activated, but it was…  _foreign_. Jaune released her hand and she flexed her glowing limb experimentally.

"That's new." She commented. "Do you think you have enough range?"

"The further away I am the more Aura it drains." He admitted.

Yang grimaced. "I'd better move fast then."

Without preamble, she burst from the back of the van, using her shotguns to propel herself at her foes. They fired at her but their bullets bounced harmlessly off her white-tinged yellow Aura, and with each impact Yang felt herself grow stronger. She struck leapt into the air and slammed her fist into the ground, shattering the street and sending goons flying. She dodged gunfire and dove at the nearest criminals.

Punch-kick-punch-dodge-block-punch-fire-punch.

Every strike broke Aura or bones. Every kick made her enemies crumble. Strength poured through Yang's veins, pulsing with her heartbeat, but she made sure not to get cocky. She knew first-hand what happened when she thought she could plow through enemies.

A goon's nose broke under her fist with a satisfying crunch, and she was happy to note they all focused on her as the greatest threat. Even when the white light began to fade, Yang fought on. Any grunt that tried to get to the van was shot. Any criminal that aimed for her friends was defeated. Yang was their protector now, and she'd be damned if she let any harm befall them.

The bazooka that one grunt brought out was almost expected. Yang fired at the rockets, racing towards the shooter, who backed up in a panic. His finger compressed on the trigger and Yang dodged the missile. It hit the road behind her and detonated, throwing her forward as all sound became lost in the booming roar. Yang hit the road with a cry and felt her Aura flicker. Her vision swam, her ears ringing and popping, and she got onto her knees, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

A goon saw her weakness and closed in, pressing a gun to her temple.

 **BANG**!

Blood spurted from the criminal's skull and he crumpled. An airship dove between the buildings, shining a light down on Yang. The back was open and a familiar figure reached towards them.

"Yang!"

Yang smiled. White glyphs appeared in the air and fire rained down upon the remaining criminals, sending them scattering. A white knight struck the street between them and the van, and Yang had to laugh.

"And here I thought Jaune was our only knight in shining armor."

Even from so far away, Yang could see Weiss roll her eyes. The summoned knight gently grabbed the brawler and took her up to the airship, setting her down gently before going back down and retrieving the others. As soon as Yang's feet touched the floor, Ruby slammed into her sister, hugging her tightly.

"You're okay!"

Yang petted her sister's hair gently as she sniffled. "Don't cry, sis. It'll take more than Torchwick to take us down."

The Arma Gigas brought Jaune, Nora, and Ren into the airship and the cargo hold closed. Yang felt the airship shudder as it took them from the city. The summoned knight vanished and Weiss joined in the hug, wrapping them both up in her arms with a fierceness that startled Yang.

"That was too close." She said tightly. "If we hadn't shown up when we did…"

Yang's grimace deepened when Ruby began to tremble. She pulled away from her sister and brushed her hair away from her teary eye. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. We all are."

Ruby sniffled and clung to her again, nodding into her shoulder.

"He wanted to leave you behind…" she whispered.

Yang stiffened, feeling as if she had been dunked in ice water. She knew exactly who 'he' was, and old fury reignited in her chest. She exhaled, forcing her eyes back to violet.  _Just wait a little longer._

Qrow hurried into the cargo hold and swept Yang and Ruby into a hug, accidentally pulling Weiss in as well. The former Heiress huffed but bore it without complaint. In fact, she looked more flabbergasted than annoyed.

"Glad you're okay, Yang." Qrow said, voice thick with repressed emotion.

Yang relaxed in her uncle's hold but jolted, pulling away from him. "Do you have medical supplies here? Nora needs help."

"I'm fine." She objected from her place laying on the floor. "Jaune fixed me up."

Ruby blinked, staring at Jaune. "…Semblance?"

"Aura amplifying Semblance." He admitted. He crouched next to Nora, expression pinched. "I still want someone to look you over."

Nora sighed loudly, but Yang could see the gentleness hiding under her exasperation. "Fine."

"Maybe Oz can help." Qrow admitted, but Yang could hear something  _off_  in his tone. He scanned the cargo hold, visage grave. "The mission isn't over. Salem's forces have Mistral."

Yang winced at the reminder. Weiss squeezed her hand reassuringly while Ruby's hug tightened.

Qrow scowled, and Yang could tell he was angry about something. She had a feeling it wasn't because of her and the others' failure to retrieve Mistral. "You have a few hours to rest before we arrive at Haven. Use it."

He left without another word.

"What's his problem?" Nora asked bluntly.

Ruby twitched.

Weiss grimaced.

"What is it?" Jaune asked, expression guarded.

The two girls looked at each other and Ruby hid her face. "No secrets." She whispered.

Yang recalled her sister telling her and Weiss about the deal she and Jaune made not to keep things from each other. In that moment, she didn't want Ruby and Weiss to keep that promise, because she wasn't sure she wanted to  _know_ —

Weiss avoided their eyes, staring at the corner. "Ozpin wanted to leave to get back to Haven. I don't think your Uncle agreed."

Yang's heart couldn't decide whether to warm or go cold. Instead it hung heavy and numb in her chest. On the one hand, Qrow was apparently unable to convince himself to abandon them for the sake of Remnant. On the other hand, Ozpin had been perfectly willing to.

_No wonder Summer died._

Yang exhaled slowly and hugged her sister tightly. "Okay. I see. It's okay. What matters is that you rescued us. You did it."

Ruby managed to smile, but her eye was still wet. "Yeah. No one died this time."

Yang barely kept from flinching. Jaune abruptly sat down near the wall, lowering his head so his bangs hid his eyes.

Ruby cleared her throat. "Now we just have to save Haven and protect the Relic. We can do this."

"I agree." Weiss said firmly.

Yang said nothing. She was slowly beginning to understand what happened after their capture and she fought back the anger that wanted to take hold. Now was not the time to confront Ozpin about his willingness to sacrifice people. All she could do was hold onto that anger for a later time. And yet with that anger there was no guilt. In Ruby's place, she would have done exactly the same thing, choosing to save her sister over the Relic. But, for Ruby's sake, she could only hope things would work out.

She prayed they were not too late.

XXXXXXX

"…And here we are." England finished.

There were no sounds except the ticking of the clock on the wall. The nations mulled over his words in silence, but Canada knew it was only a matter of time before the fragile peace of contemplation shattered. It was Switzerland who broke it.

"How many portals opened up?" he asked.

England could not meet their eyes. "Over one hundred."

A shiver passed through the room.

"Where?" Hungary demanded.

"Are there any in my country?" Latvia asked, terrified.

"What about mine?" Sealand piped up.

"Sealand, this is  _serious_." Finland said sternly. He glanced worriedly at England. " _Are_  there any in his home?"

"No." England reassured them. "A majority of the Grimm were placed far from cities and in less-populated areas. The enemy doesn't want them to be killed right away."

"Could one of them be one of those 'Spawners' you mentioned?" Spain asked nervously.

"It's possible." England said tightly. He shook his head. "No… It's  _likely_. The enemy would know we'd put up the shield as soon as possible to keep them out, so they'd want to plant a Grimm that can keep spawning more Grimm on Earth."

"And they're here because of America." Netherlands stated.

America flinched.

Canada glowered at the nation, not bothering to fight the ice that crackled over his frame. "They're  _here_  because Atlas is filled with entitled pricks." He snapped, ignoring the way a few of the nations gasped or shrank away from him in terror.

Netherland's eyebrows crept up his forehead and he looked as close to stunned as Canada had ever seen him. "Is that… 'Mantle's'?" he questioned.

Canada let the frost fade, ignoring the ice pricking his heart, and nodded sharply.

"So it's true." Greece mused.

" _Why_  would we lie about this?" England snapped.

France placed a hand on his arm. "Calm yourself, Angleterre."

"Netherlands does have a point." Egypt mentioned levelly. "The Grimm have only been sent here because they want America back."

"Well they're not getting him!" Spain proclaimed. "Romano would be sad."

"I would  _not_!" South Italy spluttered.

"I agree." Lithuania said firmly. "Giving them America would be the worst thing we could do."

Other nations murmured in agreement. America's shoulders lost some of their tension and he sat up a little straighter. Canada exhaled and peeled his fingers away from Maple Frost's grip. He saw Pyrrha relax as well, hand slipping from Miló's belt form.

"What do we do now?" Hungary asked for them all. "It won't be long before the Grimm attack us."

"We need to tell our bosses about them." Russia said unhappily. His eyes flicked out the window. "Amerika's already knows."

Canada followed his gaze and grimaced. The building and nearby park were surrounded by yellow tape and police, who redirected people away from the site of the 'gas leak' that had occurred. Government agents mingled with the boys in blue, having shown up five minutes after the last Grimm had been taken out. They had nearly dragged America out of the building and to a safe house then and there, but Alfred managed to convince them to let him stay with the other nations.

For now.

Needless to say, America, Canada, and the other nations who knew about the Grimm beforehand were going to have very  _fun_  talks with their bosses later. Canada just prayed he would be able to see America within the next decade. It was an awful truth that it was likely America's boss would force him into hiding after this incident. His twin wasn't going to take that well. Not in the slightest.

"I think we should gather an international task force to take care of the Grimm." America brought up hesitantly.

The nations stared at him, making him stiffen all over again.

"America had a good idea?" Russia chuckled. "It really is the end of the world."

"It is  _not_  the end of the world." England growled.

"It could be if the Grimm problem grows worse." Switzerland said levelly. "If we cannot contain them before the public realizes there aren't 'gas leaks'…"

"This could change the world." France interjected. He looked exhausted, his usually perfect hair in straggly disarray from stress. "And not for the better. Even implementing a taskforce is risky. All we need is  _one_  human to go rogue and knowledge of Aura will get into the wrong hands."

"I love my people." Lithuania brought up. "But I know not all of them can be trusted with Aura."

Murmurs of hollow assent sounded around the room. They all knew how cruel humans could be.

Something in Canada's chest constricted and he bit his tongue to hide a wince.

"What about nations?" Pyrrha twitched as their eyes fell on her but straightened, holding her chin high. "What if  _you_ hunt the Grimm?" She faltered, confidence dwindling. "Is that not allowed?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't be." France mused. "We've fought in wars. Why would this be any different?"

"Because superpowers— the fantasy kind— are involved." Australia said dryly. "You know the bosses will want them for themselves and our armies."

Canada's thoughts turned to Atlas and her military and his skin crawled. America's brief shudder showed he was thinking the same.

"We can make a contract or law that we cannot share the secrets of Aura with any of them." England brought up. He frowned, fingers clenching around his staff. "If they push, I could make it magically binding."

"Are such measures necessary?" Austria questioned.

"I think you underestimate what Aura can do." Germany said solemnly. "It can potentially allow a human to take a direct shot from a tank and get back up."

Austria's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Ah. That is… unexpected."

Canada nodded absently and squinted at his hands. They were shaking again. He pulled his glove aside and noted his fingernails were blue.

"Let's write up the document in preparation." Germany decided. "Only those that intend to be part of the taskforce need to sign."

Canada waited in silence as the nations spoke to each other, giving ideas for wording and accounting for loopholes. It was strange to see the world so united, but everyone remembered the Pict. They did not want to get that close to annihilation again. The sun was setting by the time the contract was written out. To everyone's surprise, Romano was the first to sign it.

"If those shitty monsters invade my nation I don't want to rely on any of you bastards to protect me." He claimed.

The contract was passed around. Some nations signed, others didn't, passing it on reluctantly or uncomfortably, like the paper would burn them if they held it too long. Canada did not blame them. They only saw a glimpse of what the Grimm could do, and although they wanted to fight for their nation, some simply felt they were not strong enough to. Or they secretly hoped they would never be a target.

Despite already having Aura, Canada signed as well, rubbing at his chest as he did so. He saw America staring at him from the corner of his eye and managed to smile for his brother. America was too far away to do anything more than tip his head questioningly.

" _I'm okay."_  Canada mouthed at him.

America's expression remained skeptical.

When the final nation signed their name, Germany accepted the contract back and put it in his suitcase. "We shall present this at the emergency UN meeting that America's boss will undoubtedly call for."

"Do you think our bosses will be mad?" Italy asked nervously.

A few of the nations grimaced.

"I think they'll be impressed we actually did something at these meetings for once." Australia commented. "Besides,  _monsters_  are in our world. I hope they'll have their priorities straight."

His words were a wake-up call. The nations slowly comprehended what was happening, and Canada had to look away as a few struggled to hide their fear. Others did not bother and quietly cried into their hands or the shoulder of a loved one. England's expression twisted into one of guilt before he covered it with a glower.

"If that is all, this meeting is adjourned." Germany stated tiredly.

The nations slowly exited the room, some contemplative, others dragging their feet. A stunned stupor settled over them as they tried to comprehend how their world had changed. Canada knew it was only that incomprehension that prevented them from registering the source of the Grimm and demanding Remnant be dealt with. For now, they needed to focus on Earth. Once things calmed down a bit— or America's boss brought it up in the meeting— they'd focus on Remnant. For better or worse.

Canada's stomach flip-flopped and he halted, hunching over and breathing heavily.

"Mattie?" Canada met America's worried blue eye. His brother's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Canada grunted. "Just tired."

He tried to shove past America but his brother refused to budge.

"You've been off all week." America stated. "And you were too tired to fight earlier."

"I was our sniper." Canada mumbled.

"When normally you're flipping around like a hockey stick-wielding acrobat." America said, undeterred. He grasped Canada's shoulders, growing visibly distressed. "Please, Mattie. I can tell something's wrong. Look, I respect your privacy. I was going to wait for you to tell me. But you keep wincing and you look  _awful_ , bro."

Canada nibbled on his lip, scanning the room. England, France, and the other nations who went to Remnant were still there, as were China, Romano, Australia, Norway, and Romania. Pyrrha slowly merged into their group and Canada heard them discussing the Grimm in low voices, debating whether they should bring the nations to America's mansion so they could use the hologram room. Alfred should be part of that conversation. Instead he was worrying over Canada, who was running on fumes by this point because even though Cuba's chat got him out of bed he was  _far_ from okay and was functioning through willpower alone.

Canada's vision swam and his knees buckled. Alfred caught him before he could fall.

"Mattie?!"

His cry drew the attention of the remaining nations, who looked over. Pyrrha hurried to the twins' sides first.

"What happened?" she asked, seeking a threat.

"Mattie almost collapsed." America said.

"I'm fine." Canada protested faintly. "Just a little dizzy—"

**Pain.**

_The roar of crumbling stone tore through Canada's head and rocks fell on top of him, burying him alive. They pressed down on his chest, snapping his ribs like twigs and leaving his limbs crushed below thousands of pounds of stone. He tried to scream but dust and ash filled his mouth and lungs, choking him, and just when he thought he might suffocate, the Dust around him detonated._

_Fire devoured his crushed, broken body, and the screams around him cut off, lost to the flames and the fallen rubble pressed down on him. Cold and the sky became a distant, unreachable memory as he burned and burned and_ _**burned** _ _, the very air vanishing in stone and fire and smoke._

"—attie!"

Canada could barely hear Alfred's frantic screams over the explosions and roaring flames. He could barely feel his brother's hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him to the floor. He opened his eyes, and among the crackling fire and shaking earth, he could see his brother's face, pale and shimmering like a ghost. He opened his mouth, forcing air past the dirt filling his lungs _._

"Mine." He gurgled, crimson dripping down his lips. "A mine collapsed under the city."

America's voice was lost in the screams of Mantle's people as the explosions spread, the snow doing nothing to quell the hungry flames. Their terror grew, becoming Canada's own, and among the sounds of crumbling, burning buildings he heard the telltale growls of approaching Grimm. Their claws tore through Canada's chest, taking his people with every swipe, and Canada slowly realized he couldn't feel America's hands anymore. He couldn't see or hear anymore either.

Everything was gone.

All that remained was  _pain_.

XXXXXXX

_The guards took Mattie one day._

_Not both twins._

_Just Canada._

_As he was dragged from the cell and down the hall, Canada heard his brother screaming behind him, fighting so violently against his bonds that he could hear them clanking down the hall._

" _NO!" America howled. "Stop! Please don't take Mattie! Take me instead! You promised. You_ _ **PROMISED**_ _!"_

_Ironwood did not look back once, and soon they were too far away to hear America's screams and sobs._

_Canada did not recognize where they were going, and despite himself he trembled, his shaking growing more pronounced with every step. After America was returned to him with his abdomen sewn up, Canada knew better than to believe he would be okay. Ironwood had killed the men responsible for America's injury, but that did not mean Canada was safe from the worst tortures imaginable._

_Canada held his head high despite his fear, faltering only when they stopped in a new room. At the side opposite the door, there were too pods. One was empty. In the other lay a man. His eyes met Canada's, widening in fear, and he pounded weakly against the glass. Canada could tell the man was dying. His movements were too slow and sluggish, his skin pale, his eyes fevered, but he still held Canada's gaze, desperate, pleading, and_ _**afraid** _ _._

_Ironwood ignored him. "Put him inside."_

_Canada was unceremoniously shoved onto his back in the other pod. It clicked shut above him and he pushed against the door, unable to force it open. Ironwood paused in front of the glass window and his expression twisted._

" _I'm sorry about this." he said softly. "I must do as I've been ordered."_

_He stepped back and nodded at the man at the controls._

_Buttons beeped, the machine whirred to life, and Canada's nerves_ _**burst into flames** _ _. He screamed, lurching and writhing, barely noticing as his limbs struck the sides of the pod and violet light surrounded him. The light sank into his skin, his bones, his mind and soul, tearing him apart and forcing itself into the empty spaces._

_There was no machine. There was no man. There was no light. There was nothing but ice and cold and pain. It grew and grew and grew, erasing everything else, and soon even the coldness abandoned him and Canada knew nothing_ _**but** _ _pain._

_He forgot America. He forgot the lab. He forgot_ _**himself** _ _._

_Nothing existed except agony and his screams, his throat torn raw by his howls. The source of the pain forced its way into his flesh, snaking into his soul, and abruptly, it slid into it, merging into one. He jolted, spine rigid and eyes rolling back into his head as his mind went white, unable to comprehend the_ _**agony** _ _as the light became a part of him._

_Then it was over._

_He stared at the cover of the pod as it lifted, shivering as the icy presence settled itself into his being. Hazy memories and his sense of self slowly returned and when Ironwood reached for him, he recoiled with a whimper._

" _P-Please…" he begged, not sure what he was pleading for._

_Ironwood grimaced and grabbed him, pulling him out of the pod. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor with a cry. Hands grabbed him and he wailed brokenly, too weak to try thrashing in the soldiers' hold._

" _No." he whimpered, voice barely audible. "Please no… Please…" Red-hot tears trickled down his cheeks, failing to dent the burning cold biting his flesh._

_Ironwood knelt in front of him and grabbed his chin. "What is your name?" he asked sharply._

_He trembled in the General's grasp, mind scrambling. It took a moment, but he recalled the answer. "C-Canada…"_

" _Did it fail?" one of the scientists asked sharply._

_Ironwood shook his head. "No. There were simply some unexpected side effects. He seems to have remained himself since…" He paused briefly. "…the_ _**other** _ _was dying naturally."_

_Cold eyes returned to Canada and he tried to shrink away, only for the soldiers to prevent him from doing so._

" _What was_ _ **his**_ _name?" Ironwood demanded, jerking his head at the pods._

_Canada's gaze slid past him at the limp form in the pod. The man's dead eyes stared back at him, his terrified expression permanently etched on his pale features. Canada gulped, shaking his head mutely._

" _ **WHAT WAS HIS NAME?!**_ _" Ironwood bellowed._

_Canada flinched. "M-Mantle."_

_The General did not look pleased. In fact, he looked disgusted. Canada trembled, fear choking him, and he prayed the man would not become angry enough to throw him back in the machine._ _**Anything** _ _but that._

_Ironwood's scowl deepened and he released Canada's chin, standing up. "Take him back to the cells. I'll inform Atlas of our success."_

_The soldiers dragged Canada's limp body away. He looked back in time to see them take Mantle's body from the pod and put it on a table, wheeling it out of sight. A hysterical laugh bubbled free of his lips and one of the soldiers struck him, snapping his head to the side._

_The other guard grabbed his arm. "Don't. Can't you see his Aura's a mess?"_

" _If he survived that he can survive a little tap on the head." The first guard said dismissively. He smirked. "How much you want to bet the other one's still screaming?"_

" _I'm not taking that bet. They probably knocked him out to shut him up." The second soldier scoffed._

" _Spoilsport." The first one snorted. He grinned. "If he isn't now, he'll squeal later when it's_ _ **his**_ _turn."_

_They laughed, cold and callous, and Canada kept his head down to hide his tear-stained face. But even their cruelty was not as cold as the ice ripping through his heart._

_It was a part of him now, and in that moment, he knew it would never leave._


	26. Disaster

Triumph was theirs.

Blake stood before Adam, his bombs disabled and his White Fang surrounded as police airships circled above. The White Fang crowded together nervously, unwilling to surrender but ill at ease after their leader considered blowing them up with their enemies. Ilia dropped one of the detonators she'd disarmed on the ground, catching Blake's eye, and smiled slightly. Blake nodded to her and returned her attention to Adam, back unbowed and voice level despite the shrivel of fear in her stomach.

"Give it up, Adam. You've lost."

Adam stared at her in a deceptively serene manner, his willingness to become violent only betrayed through the hand that rested lightly on his sword. Blake tensed, expecting him to charge her, but he did not move, maintaining his façade of serenity. His gaze swept over the gathered Faunus and he spoke loudly and clearly so they all could hear.

"I cannot believe what you have done. Through your actions, you  _betray_  your people, Blake." Adam spat. "All of you have."

Blake's insides twisted into knots and cold claws threatened to yank her heart out of her chest. Something stirred in the gathered Faunus. A few lowered their weapons, uncertainty clouding their features. Sun's eyes flicked over the disturbed Faunus and widened.

"Blake, don't listen to him." He said urgently.

"You claim to fight for the Faunus, yet you side with our enemies." Adam continued, drowning out Sun's voice. "You called the  _human police_ here to persecute us, police who have wrongfully arrested, imprisoned, and  _killed_  Faunus for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or for simply  _existing_." He pointed at Haven, every violent movement filled with fury. "If you took one look around town, you'd see the signs on every other store refusing Faunus entry! And yet you defend this  _wretched_  school, a school which represents every  _injustice_  brought upon the Faunus in Mistral."

"Destroying Haven won't help bring equality to the Faunus." Blake objected. "It will only make things worse."

"So you  _admit_  that the people will turn on the Faunus if Haven is destroyed." Adam boomed. "They will not care who is innocent. They will continue to hate and shun us as they always have!"

"You're wrong." Blake denied.

Adam glared at her. " _Am_  I? History shows a different story." He gestured at the gathered Faunus, and a shudder went through them. "Just look at the Faunus around you, who are forced to live on a small, overcrowded island because  _humans_  put them there."

And then it happened.

Blake staggered forward as she was struck from behind, only her Aura protecting her from what would be a fatal shot to the head. She heard her mother scream her name from the airship above and turned to her attacker. It was not an enemy in a White Fang mask. The street-clothes wearing Faunus behind her lunged at her again with a snarl, his panther ears flicked back.

Like a switch had been flicked, the rest of Blake's forces turned on themselves, attacking those they had just been prepared to fight alongside. Terrified cries and confused shouts rang through the air, and the clear line between friend and enemy blurred into chaos as the Faunus attacked each other like… like…

_Animals._

Blake knocked out the panther Faunus, ears flattened against her head, and glared at Adam. "What did you  _do_?"

Adam smirked, sauntering forward with his hand on his sword. "I reminded them where their loyalties lie."

A suspicion struck Blake and her skin crawled.  _Is Adam's Semblance some type of mind-control?_

Before she could consider it further, Adam rushed her. She desperately brought her blade up to block his sheath and their weapons sparked. He pressed against her, teeth bared in a cold grin, and she distantly heard her mother telling the police not to fire. It was impossible to tell who was on whose side, some Faunus fighting White Fang while most fought their former comrades.

"Don't you understand yet, Blake?" Adam asked coldly. "They will never side with you against me. My people will  _never_  turn their backs on me!"

He whipped his sword out, slashing at Sun, and the monkey Faunus hit the dirt with a grunt. Ilia dove at Adam but he kicked her away easily, sending her weapon flying.

"I should have known  _you'd_  betray us." Adam snarled.

He shoved Blake away and loomed over Ilia, but she intercepted before he could pursue her fallen friends.

"You don't own any of us." Blake spat. "The Faunus can make their own choices."

Adam's mask was all she could see, but she could feel his eyes burning into her soul. "You're right. I don't own all of you. But most of you  _are_   _mine_."

Pain lanced through Blake's chest and she gasped, falling to her knees. She looked up, eyes widening as his sword came down, but Sun sprang in the way, blocking the blow. Adam cast him a disinterested look before turning his eyes back to Blake. He leaned forward, shoving Sun into her and pinning them both beneath the weight of his hatred.

"After all… I. Am. _Menagerie_."

XXXXXXX

When they flew in over Haven, the last thing Ruby expected was for the battle to already have started. She gaped at the chaos on the school grounds, eye roaming the swarm of bodies for any familiar faces among the mob below. The school should be empty of potential allies, yet it wasn't. Why were a bunch of Faunus at Haven? She spotted a few White Fang grunts, but eventually caught sight of someone she certainly did not think she'd see.

"Is that  _Blake_?" she whispered.

Yang's eyes turned red. "Why is  _she_  here?"

"The reason doesn't matter. It appears they have the White Fang occupied." Qrow interrupted quickly. "The Relic takes priority. Let's go."

"But Blake—?" Ruby clamped her mouth shut, stunned into silence by the glower on her sister's face. "Relic. Right."

Sterlyn flew them low over the school. Ruby could hear him arguing with the police airships over the radio, telling them he had Huntsmen on board to help and they were going in whether they liked it or not. The police must have relented because they swooped down near the grounds, just far enough away from the fighting to not get caught up in it immediately.

"Here's your stop." The pilot called to them. "I'm going to back off. Call when you need me."

"Thanks for your help!" Weiss shouted back.

Ruby heard him chuckle. "Go get them, kid."

Ruby, Yang, Weiss, Jaune, Ren, Qrow, Oscar, and a recovered Nora raced out of the cargo hold and into the fray. The airship lifted into the air and flew off to safer skies. The courtyard was filled with Faunus, and although some wore White Fang masks, too many wore normal clothes.

"Who's the enemy?" Nora asked.

"Don't know." Qrow grunted. "Get through them all and to the school. Mistral might already be inside."

_Neo._

Ruby's heart pounded and hot coals settled in her stomach. She aimed Crescent Rose behind her, firing to launch herself into the air. She put on a burst of speed and soared easily over the mob of Faunus, ignoring her sister's shouts. She landed in a skid in the doorway to the school and ran inside.

The Grand Hall was completely empty. Not even Lionheart was present, leaving the school silent and barren even as the battle raged outside. She stepped inside, feeling as if she was passing into a different world, and saw the statue of the woman by the stairs was gone. In its place was an empty hole like an elevator shaft.

She didn't need anyone to tell her that meant someone was  _already in the Vault_.

Ruby jumped down the hole without hesitation, the wind rushing past her as she fell. They couldn't be too late. They  _couldn't_  be. The White Fang was here, which meant the enemy had to be in the Vault right now.

She could only hope Neo loved her people somewhat, and that love would make her resist the enemy's orders to unlock the Vault and the Relic. If Neo could just hold out, Ruby could defeat whoever was with her.

She desperately hoped it was one of the enemies she knew the abilities of. Tyrian would be tough, but she'd learned since her last battle. Emerald would be a problem unless Neo decided to side with Ruby. Hazel and Watts were unknowns, and she had  _no_  idea what to expect from them. But she could hold out until her team arrived to assist her.

She was the scout and the first attacker. She  _would_  succeed. Even if that meant protecting someone she despised.

Ruby landed at the bottom of the shaft, cloak fluttering around her. Gripping Crescent Rose tightly, she stepped out of the elevator and into the Vault.

The Vault below Haven yawned before her, illuminated by a soft blue design on the floor. A large tree stood regally at the end of the hall, its glowing orange leaves floating serenely in a nonexistent wind. Below the tree was a wide, open doorway which led to what appeared to be a desert.

Ruby's steps quickened and she used her Semblance to run to the doorway at full speed, the world blurring around her. She passed through the open Vault, skidding to a halt inside and sending sand flying in front of her. Her eye rested on the only thing in the endless space, and numbness swept through her.

Neopolitan lay on the sand, mismatched eyes closed and hair in disarray, her pink and brown locks splayed around her head like a halo. Her normally white top was a deep red, the color not the slightest bit covered by the hand pressed to her abdomen.

Nothing else was in sight. There was only sand.

Mistral was here.

The Relic of Knowledge was not.

They _were too late._

Ruby's grip slackened on Crescent Rose and it fell to the ground with a thud. Neo stirred, mismatched eyes fluttering open, and she craned her neck, meeting Ruby's horrified gaze. Her usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead dull, defeated eyes stared at Ruby with the peaceful hopelessness of someone who had accepted their death.

The silver-eyed girl took a moment to study her features, spotting the bruises on her neck and face. Her heart jolted painfully and she forced her feet to carry her forward, dragging Crescent Rose behind her. Neo's eyes followed her the entire way and when Ruby halted beside her, they closed.

In exhaustion?

From defeat?

Ruby could not say. All she knew was her anger was gone, leaving her feeling empty. She set Crescent Rose aside and ripped Neo's coat, pressing the fabric to her wound. Mistral's eyes snapped open, silver-white with shock, and she stared at Ruby, brow furrowed.

Ruby swallowed roughly. "Did they take the Relic?"

Neo averted her gaze and nodded.

Ruby's hands trembled. "How long ago?"

Neo blinked at her, gazing blankly at the ceiling. Ruby grabbed her Scroll and showed her the date. Neo squinted and held up three fingers.

"Three hours?" Ruby asked tremulously.

Neo shook her head.

"Three days." Ruby whispered.

Neo nodded, and a shudder went through her. Ruby's eye drifted unwillingly over the discolorations and cuts on Neo's pale skin. Her legs were also bent unnaturally, and Ruby had a feeling they were broken. Feeling queasy, she forced her gaze back to her enemy's face.

"It's not your fault." She whispered. "You did your best."

Neo stared at her in bewilderment.

Ruby peeked at the wound on Mistral's abdomen and regretted it. She inhaled sharply before covering it again. "Don't get me wrong." She said shakily. "I don't forgive you. But I'm not going to leave you here like this."

Neo blinked at her, eyes half-closed.

Ruby grimaced as the red seeped through the cloth. She was no expert, but she knew Neo was past saving unless…

 _Jaune._ "My friend can help you." Ruby said tightly. She put Neo's hands on the cloth and stood. "Just let me—"

Neo shook her head.

"Don't  _shake your head at me_." Ruby snapped. "I'm not going to sit around and let you die here—"

Neo shook her head again, weaker this time. Her face was taut with pain, and Ruby didn't want to think about how long she had been lying there like this. Her attacker had injured her in a way that would ensure a slow, painful death, and maybe Mistral just wanted it to be over. Ruby's stomach curdled at the thought. She couldn't forgive Neo, but even she didn't deserve  _this_.

"Who did this?" Ruby questioned.

Neo blinked at her lethargically.

"Tyrian?" Ruby guessed.

She shook her head.

"Hazel?"

No.

"Adam?"

No.

Ruby gulped, feeling sick to her stomach. "…Emerald?"

Neo nodded weakly.

Ruby felt bile rise in her throat. She swallowed it and gritted her teeth, returning to Neo's side. "We'll stop her."

Neo's mismatched brown and pink eyes softened. Her fingers twitched towards Ruby's pocket. Hesitantly, the girl handed her the Scroll inside. Neo typed, smearing red on the screen, and turned it so Ruby could see. Her hands shook too much so Ruby took it from her.

" _Tell Vale I'm sorry."_

Ruby bit her lip, blinking back tears. Apparently Neo did not know about Alfred's death. Or she thought Ruby would find his reincarnation before her. "I will." She promised, because she wasn't heartless enough not to.

Neo smiled, and for a moment, Ruby saw who Mistral used to be before the world destroyed her. Her eyes clouded, slipping closed, and she went limp, face settling into a peaceful expression. Ruby stayed with her, sitting in the empty, Relic-less Vault as sand blew softly around her. She watched some float into the air, up into the bright sky.

Then she bowed her head and cried.

XXXXXXX

Blake struck the ground with a cry, clenching her teeth so she wouldn't scream in pain. She struggled to sit up, shooting at Adam, but he absorbed her shots into his sword. He advanced like an inescapable wall and casually backhanded Sun as the monkey Faunus tried to attack him from the side, sending him sprawling.

Adam planted his foot on Sun's stomach, eliciting a pained grunt from him, and blocked all of Blake's shots. Ilia sprang in to help but Adam swung at her, sending her crashing into the wall. The chameleon Faunus struck the stone and crumpled. She did not rise.

"Adam! Stop this!" Blake begged, forced to shout in order to be heard over the battle raging around them.

The Faunus still fought each other, with only those fighting White Fang members clearly on her side. The rest could be on hers or Adam's. There was  _no_  way to tell. And that made everything worse.

 _I brought them here, and now they're fighting their brothers and sisters because of me_ , Blake thought, blinking back tears.

She forced herself into a kneeling position, shooting uselessly at Adam, but the bull Faunus did not move, casually blocking and keeping his foot planted on Sun's chest.

"I promised you I would destroy everything you loved." Adam stated. "And I intend to keep that promise. You betrayed your people. You betrayed your nation. You betrayed  _me_."

"I fight for the Faunus!" Blake shouted. "I know that we can live peacefully with humans."

Adam's face twisted into a snarl. "You know  _nothing_."

He stomped down on Sun's arm and her friend's scream was accompanied by the sharp  _crack_  of breaking bone. Blake stumbled to her feet as Adam raised his sword above his head, running across the battlefield even though she had no hope of making it in time.

"No!"

Adam let her come, striking her in the jaw with his sheath and sending her to the ground. Blake spat out blood, locking eyes with Sun's pain-filled blue. He tried to move his arm but his face contorted in agony, leaving him unable to use his Semblance.

Adam smirked, and mockingly  _slowly_ , raised his sword to stab. Shotgun blasts hit him head on and he stumbled. Yang landed beside him, eyes burning red.

"Remember me?" she snarled and punched him in the gut.

Adam faltered but blocked her next strike, forced onto the defensive. Yang kicked him away from Sun and he blocked her shots, backing up as she punched rapidly at him. In another setting, Blake would call their fight a dance, both moving with graceful, deadly intent as Yang kept her opponent from attacking. Adam realized what she was doing and snarled, sweeping his sword, but Yang grabbed his sword with her metal hand. Her fist slammed into his stomach and he howled in shock, staggering back.

A shape sprang from the mob of Faunus behind Yang.

"Look out!" Blake shouted, aiming her gun and firing.

The bullet hit the Faunus in the throat and he fell into Yang, making her stagger. Adam snatched up his sword, but was blown backward by a glyph. He stumbled back to his feet, hair in disarray, and glared at Weiss as she halted beside her teammates.

"So now you have fallen so low you even work with a Schnee…" he snarled. His mask lifted and Blake felt his eyes burning into her soul. "This isn't over."

He slashed at the air, sending forth a burst of energy, and it tore through Weiss's protective glyph. Yang sprang at Blake, knocking her down, and the slice passed over them, hitting the Faunus behind them. Blake shut her eyes, cringing as they screamed and fell. When she looked up, Adam was gone. Sun stared in the direction he had vanished, clutching at his broken arm.

"He got away…" Sun mumbled.

"We'll get him someday." Blake said.

Around them, the Faunus lowered their weapons, some shaking their heads as if they were coming out of a trance. Swords, shields, and guns fell from numb fingers and clattered to the ground. Horrified friends looked at each other, backing away as ears flattened and tails drooped. They rushed to the wounded, assisting those that could stand, and although there was confusion and fear, there was hope as well.

The White Fang members were being rounded up by the police, who finally dared to move now that the Faunus had stopped fighting each other. Adam had escaped, but the bombs were disarmed.

Haven was saved.

The police chief stopped beside Blake. "Round them up." She said, nodding at the Faunus.

The Faunus from Menagerie froze.

Blake's stomach dropped. "No!" she protested, stepping between the police and the Faunus. "Adam hypnotized them. It's his Semblance."

"Are you sure?" the police chief asked neutrally.

"Yes." Blake said, even though she wasn't.

The police chief slowly nodded. "Fine." She jabbed a hand at the White Fang members they had captured. "Book them."

The danger having passed, Blake relaxed. Her lips twitched, and she looked to her team. "Hey—"

Furious red eyes bore into hers, silencing her. Yang's expression did not soften in the slightest. Instead she turned on her heel, running into the school. Blake glanced uncertainly at Weiss, who smiled. It was noticeably strained.

"She has other priorities. We're not done yet." She followed Yang into the building.

Blake hesitated, looking to Sun. The monkey Faunus fluttered his good hand vaguely. "Go."

"I'll stay with him." Ilia promised, hobbling over to Sun's side.

Blake nodded her thanks and followed her teammates. The entrance hall was completely empty, with only their footsteps breaking the silence. Blake heard more behind her and turned to see Jaune, Nora, Ren, Qrow, and a young boy hurry up.

Qrow looked around, frowning. "I think we missed the welcoming party."

"Oz says 'he hopes not'." The boy said.

Blake shot him a bewildered look, but no one else did. What on Remnant was going on…?

There was a low rumble and something ascended out of the hole in the middle of the hall. A statue rose up, revealing Ruby standing on top. Blake smiled, overjoyed to see her leader, but Weiss and Yang's faces fell, Jaune inhaled shakily, and the boy slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

"Oh no…" Qrow whispered.

It was then Blake saw Ruby's remaining eye was red-rimmed. Her skin was pale, and her sleeves were covered in  _blood_. Violet eyes faded to a terrified, faded blue, and Yang ran to her sister, frantically checking her for wounds.

Ruby shoved Yang away, wiping at her silver eye. "I'm fine. It's Mistral's."

Blake blinked in confusion but the others tensed. Nora covered her mouth and the boy lowered his head, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"What happened?" Weiss demanded.

Ruby blinked rapidly, eyes filling with tears. "Neo was down there. She was injured. She's dead now. And…" Her shoulder shook. "And the Relic…"

"Ruby…" Yang whispered, voice choked with sorrow.

Ruby lowered her head, unable to look at any of them. "The Relic is gone. Salem's forces took it  _three days_  ago. We were  _already too late_."

And even though Blake did not understand what she was talking about, she knew they had lost.

XXXXXXX

England plowed into the empty room, throwing the single bucket and mop inside out the door behind him. America twisted so the bucket hit him instead of Canada, who lay limp and oblivious in his arms with blood trickling down his chin.

"Watch it!" he snapped at England.

His older brother ignored him, hurrying around the room and muttering to himself.

"Shouldn't we take Matthew to the hospital?" Pyrrha asked anxiously.

"They won't be able to help him." England said tightly. "You heard him. A mine collapsed in Mantle. The city is  _dying_  and taking him with it."

America's mind went blank.

"Mon dieu." France breathed, skin going white. "He  _told_  me."

England turned on him, green eyes blazing. "And you didn't think to  _tell us?!_ "

"I forgot." France said helplessly, eyes glazed. "He… used his Semblance on me. He did not intend to, I think, but—"

"Mattie  _isn't_  dying." America interjected snappishly, jolting out of his stupor. "He's fine! His country  _is fine!_ "

"Canada is fine.  _Mantle_  is not. They're connected. They're  _one_. So if one nation falls…" England halted in his pacing, staring at Matthew with an agonized expression. "I should have known this was coming."

"You didn't. Now you do.  _Do something about it!_ " America roared.

England faltered, indecisive, as raw fear crept into his expression. "I don't…"

"England." Norway interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. "What about the ritual?"

"What ritual?" Pyrrha asked.

America's eyes widened with comprehension. "The one they were going to use on me to stop me from feeling Vale's pain. You can do it to Mattie and save him."

To his frustration, England still hesitated. "Alfred, I won't be able to perform the ritual again—"

"He's  _dying_ , England!" America shouted, tears pricking at his eyes.

England's expression twisted in indecision. "But Vale—"

"It's just a little pain. I'll live with it. Whatever you were going to do to me, do to him." America begged. " _Save our brother_."

England's throat bobbed and he nodded sharply. "Romania, Norway, help me set up. The rest of you, out. I'll call for Canada when we're ready."

The remaining nations and Pyrrha were shoved out the door, which England slammed in their faces. America rocked back and forth, staring down at his brother. Even though Mattie couldn't see it, he forced a smile.

"Don't worry, bro."

Canada did not twitch.

"You'll be right as rain in a second."

His skin was blue and pale, frost covering his ashen flesh.

"Just… keep breathing, okay?"

He was so  _still_.

"Please…"

He already looked dead—

_Don't think it._

The next twenty minutes were agonizing. America refused to let someone else take Mattie from him, holding his brother close and trying to keep him warm with his Semblance. France hovered at his side, squeezing Canada's limp hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. The door finally opened and England waved America inside.

"Now." He said. "Quickly."

America ran through the door with Mattie, but England blocked the way behind him. "No one else." He stated shortly, shutting the door again and locking it. He walked to the center of the room, where a strange array was drawn in chalk on the floor. "Set him here."

America did as he commanded, laying Canada in the center of the array and brushing his sweaty hair away from his face. No, it wasn't sweaty. It was icy, crackling under his fingers like snow. Norway shoved him away from the circle before returning with England and Romania, sitting down at its edge.

America recalled what the quiet nation said about the ritual and gulped. "Will he feel it?"

"I don't know." Norway said honestly. "The pain can't be worse than what he is feeling now."

"Stay out of the way, Alfred." England warned. "Don't come close, no matter what."

"Got it." America said, retreating reluctantly to the wall.

He wiped sweaty palms on his pants as England and the others knelt at the edges of the array, placing their hands on it. England held a book in his other hand and began chanting, voice growing louder with every word.

Light gathered around the circle, illuminating Canada in an eerie green glow. The world darkened, jolting and shuddering like a ship in a violent storm. America staggered as a wind started up, howling like a thousand dying souls. He resisted the urge to cover his ears, watching wide-eyed as Canada's body jerked, contorting unnaturally as his spine lifted off the floor. America fought the instinct to rush to his brother's side, hunching against the wall as his nails bit into his palm.

Canada did not appear to be in pain. Other than the occasional jerk, he was limp and still, head lolling like a broken puppet's. Then his eyes snapped open and rolled back into his head. Purple light joined the green flaring around him, swirling together hypnotically. Still, he did not scream, and it was only that lack of visible pain that kept America rooted in place.

England gave a final shout, and the purple detached from Canada, fading into nothingness. The wind died down, the unnatural darkness faded, and Canada's body slumped peacefully against the floor. America jerked into motion, running to his twin's side.

"Mattie!"

Violet eyes fluttered open, filled with confusion, but they softened upon meeting his twin's.

"Hey." Canada rasped.

"How do you feel?" America asked urgently.

Canada blinked, brow furrowed. He lifted a hand and ice formed in his palm. He studied it absently and let the limb fall to his side, laying his head back on the floor and blinking.

"…Different."

"What do you mean?" America asked fearfully.

His brother's reassuring smile made his terror fade away. "I feel  _great_. I'm not in pain anymore. In fact… I don't feel Mantle's people at all. Mantle's memories are still there and I still have his Semblance but the connection with his people is  _gone_." A puzzled frown tugged at his lips, but it did little to dim his obvious elation.

America's thoughts screeched to a halt. Something unpleasant prodded at the edge of his consciousness but it was lost behind buzzing static.

Canada jolted into a sitting position, eyes going round. "My connection with Mantle's people is gone. They don't have a  _personification_  anymore."

England knelt next to America, laying a hand on Canada's arm. "They were already doomed." He said gently.

Canada nodded slowly, gaze growing distant. "The mine that collapsed was directly under the city. Most of it fell when the tunnels did, and the rest fell to the explosions and flames and… Then the Grimm came rushing in." he shuddered. "I don't think there's anyone left to be affected anyway."

"What do you mean?" America asked, voice sounding faint and foreign to his own ears.

Canada blinked at him and shook his head as if to clear it. "You don't know. Right. If a personification somehow permanently dies when they still have— or, in my case, loses the connection with—their people, it  _affects_  their people. It's a rare thing. Usually it only happens when a nation is dying anyway. In most cases, the people will move to other nations or make a new nation entirely to replace the old one." Canada closed his eyes, head lowering. "There weren't enough people left in Mantle for either of those options. They've dissolved."

America couldn't breathe. "That's what the ritual did?"

England stiffened. "Alfred—"

The sound of his voice brought America over the edge. "That's what the ritual  _IS SUPPOSED TO DO?!_ "

England flinched. "Alfr—"

"NO!" America shouted, scrambling away from England. "If that causes the nation to dissolve…"

England rose to his feet, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "Alfred, it's not what you think—"

"That ritual  _breaks_  a nation's _bond with their people!_ " America snarled. "You  _lied_  to me.  _YOU SAID MY PEOPLE WOULDN'T GET HURT!_ "

"The people of America would be  _fine_." England snapped.

His words were like a slap to the face. America gaped at his older brother, briefly going numb. "You were going to sever my connection with Vale's people." He whispered, pain lancing through his head. "Ruby, Y-Yang, their dad, Jaune, his family, Velvet, Coco, Goodwitch, Oobleck, Port… You were going to let them  _rot_."

England held his gaze steadily. "Your wording is crude but… yes, America. They are  _not_  your burden to bear."

Hurt and anger— and understanding?— warred for dominance in America's heart as he registered what England had intended to do. He was wrong. His brother had  _never_  accepted Vale. He'd intended to rip Vale's people from America like an unwanted defect. All those talks about the ritual were covers for prodding America into agreeing to throw the people of Vale away like  _trash_  — people like  _Ruby_ , who babbled about weapons and saving the day and insisted she was his friend even when he just wanted everything to  _burn_ —all because England wanted the old America back.

A part of him understood where his brother was coming from— that he was trying to help America and did not intend for America to be hurt— but that did not change the fact that Alfred had been lied to and betrayed.  _Again_. His head  _ached_ , like his brain was trying to tear itself apart and he pressed a palm to his forehead. To his shame, his eyes burned and tears trickled silently down his cheeks.

England's calm façade faltered. "Alfred—"

America tried to shove past him but England's staff glowed. America slammed into the ground, helplessly pinned, and he noticed he was  _on the array_. The fact that it could only be used once fled his mind and he screamed, thrashing desperately as he tried and failed to break free.

"No! _Please no! Please_ _ **don't do this! PLEASE!**_ "

There was thud as something slammed into the closed door.

Mattie staggered over to America, grasping his hand desperately. "Al, it's okay." He begged. "Calm down."

America kept thrashing, calling on Vale's flames as he kept  _fighting_ , struggling to break free, and his foot connected with his brother's leg. Canada yelped, falling on top of him amidst the flames and pinning his wrists down as—

_Washington DC burned._

_America watched the flames devour the White House, tears carving clean streaks down his ash-covered cheeks. He could feel the fire burning in his heart, and although the pain made him shudder, it was the person responsible that was a dagger to his heart._

" _Canada." He begged. "Canada, please."_

_Canada stared down at him, and his eyes were cold and merciless. His gentle brother's teeth twisted into a snarl, and he leaned over, gaze burning like the city around them._

" _You deserve this after what your forces did." he hissed._

" _I didn't know." America gasped, body jerking painfully as he inhaled smoke. "They weren't ordered to—"_

_Canada grabbed him by the throat, slamming his head down against the ground. America— for all his strength— could not throw off his furious twin. Maybe he didn't want to. Because although his men had burned Washington DC, although Canada was his enemy in this war, he would never, ever be able to hurt his brother._

A broken, strangled scream tore its way from America's throat. The agonized howl startled Canada and America managed to throw him off. He blasted England away with wind, staggering to his feet as he backed away from both of them. The locked door rattled again as something struck it.

"You burned—" America hiccupped, pointing a shaky hand at Canada. "Y-You burned my c-cap—"

Canada's eyes went round. "America, it's not what you think." He pleaded. "We were at war and—"

"It's always  _war_!" America shouted. "War is your excuse for  _everything_! We're family. We're  _brothers_. Yet you  _pinned me down_ and  _made me watch_ asmy capitol _burned._ "

Canada recoiled.

Pain radiated through America's skull. He clutched at his head and staggered towards the window, flames flickering in his hands, and tensed as England raised his staff. He did not react fast enough.

Green light surrounded America, freezing him in place, and his fire extinguished. The light was cold. It was so  _cold_. It sank into his flesh like the bitter bite of metal on his skin and the icy chill of drugs in his veins but it did nothing to numb the  _ripping_  sensation inside his head.

_Why why why why why why_ _**WHY—?!** _

"You  _idiot_." England said tiredly, but his gaze was hard. He raised his staff. "I apologize. This is for your own—"

The door burst open and Pyrrha slammed into England, breaking his concentration and sending them both to the ground. "Alfred,  _RUN_!"

America did not need to be told twice. He leapt out the window, ignoring England's shouts to wait. The fleeing twin nearly tripped over his own two feet as he ran, dodging past late-night travelers as he sought to put as much distance between himself and the others as possible. No footsteps seemed to follow in pursuit but he wouldn't be able to pick them out among the bustle of the city if they were there.

He didn't know where to go. He didn't know who to trust. But he had to run. He had to keep moving. He  _couldn't_  let them use him and hurt him and leave him to die in a ditch again even though he knew they wouldn't, he  _knew_ , so why was he running  _why_ —?

America ran deeper into the city, ran past oblivious natives and unlit stores, ran until his feet ached and his breathing came in painful gasps. He staggered to a halt and collapsed on a park bench, shivering in his suit jacket. He wiped at his forehead and trembled, blinking as water droplets fell onto his glasses. He took them off and cleaned them before leaning his aching head back as hot tears trickled down his temples. Footsteps interrupted his vigil before it could begin and he jumped to his feet, gripping Cobalt Striker.

Australia panted heavily, raising his hands in a placating manner. "Easy there. I won't hurt you."

America giggled. The pained sound grew into a hysterical laugh so powerful his throat hurt. Australia watched him break down with a seemingly horrified and concerned expression. But was his worry genuine? Was  _any_  of it genuine, from  _any_  of the nations?  _Was it?_

 _Yes,_  a part of him insisted.

 _No,_  another part feared.

Alfred just kept laughing. Abruptly he stopped and smiled at Australia. He smiled so wide it  _hurt_.

"Do you know  _how many people_   _have told me that?_ " he demanded in a strained croak.

Australia stepped forward. "I—"

America stepped back, raising Cobalt Striker. "Don't come closer."

Australia halted, hands still raised. A frown tugged at his lips. "I don't know much about your past, but I know enough to say Matthew would  _never_  betray you like you're thinking."

America glared at him, lips pressed together to hold the sobs inside. "Did you hear all that or are you trying to manipulate me too?" Except England  _wasn't_  really manipulating he just wanted America to be free of Vale's burdens but England  _was_  manipulating because if he wasn't then why didn't he just tell Alfred the  _truth_ —?

"No manipulating here." Australia said lightly. He grimaced. "England should've straight-up told you what the ritual did. He shouldn't have tried to dupe you like that and ensnared you with his magic when you freaked. It's fucked up."

The bat lowered slightly and America slumped back onto the bench. "He tried to trick me into  _destroying_ —" Something in his head seemed to  _pulse_  and he groaned, rubbing his forehead. "—V-Vale's people. What would that have done to  _Ruby_? And Canada… when he pinned me down…" America swallowed roughly. "He was so  _angry_ back then. I could hardly recognize him."

"Anger—  _pant_ — does not suit—  _gasp_ — Matthieu."

The bayonet snapped up and France froze in place, panting heavily. The Frenchman shoved the weapon away from his face, too exhausted to be afraid. "Don't—  _pant_ — point that at—  _pant_ — me! Chased you—  _gasp_ — because Matthieu begged me to—  _pant_ — Ugh!"

France collapsed in the bench next to America. Alfred sat stiffly, keeping an eye on the Frenchman. He stiffened when Australia sat on his other side, in his blind spot.

"Don't give me that look." Australia grumbled. "My legs are tired. I never knew you were such a jogger, mate."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." America said.

"There's a lot  _you_  don't know about you either." Australia retorted. "You, Canada, and England all hurt each other in the past. I've seen the aftermath. But you reconciled. You forgave each other. You love each other anyway, as mushy as that sounds."

Memories prodded at the edge of his mind. America held them back, afraid of what he would recall.

"I know." America admitted. "To them, it's been years since all that. But I  _just_  got these memories back. And England just tried to  _manipulate_  me  _again_." His fingers tightened around Cobalt Striker. "How can I trust them after that?"

"They mean well." France said, having finally caught his breath. "Angleterre only wants what he thinks is best for you."

"He almost doomed Vale's people. He almost took  _Ruby's_  personification. Sometimes what he thinks and I want don't align." America muttered.

"True." France acknowledged. "But I believe there are better ways to tell him he is wrong than letting your relationship crumble again. Speak to him. Shout at him. Punch him. Do whatever you need to. Then, once he apologizes for wronging you, forgive him."

America snorted. "You make it sound so easy."

"It can be." France encouraged. "Love is truly a powerful force. Especially in families." His gaze softened and he allowed America time to consider his words before he shook himself and stood. "Ready to return?"

_What if they hurt us—?_

_Hush. They won't. Besides, we can't avoid them forever._

America winced, kneading his forehead. "I… guess."

"If England tries anything, I'll sic my python on him." Australia promised.

America chuckled and wiped at his eyes. "I'll hold you to that."

France smiled but paused, looking around awkwardly. "Ah. Before we do that, we might want to call Romano. He was sent with me because he's such a quick runner. I fear he might have gotten lost."

"Great." Australia said flatly.

"I'll call him." America offered.

"Be prepared for a lot of swearing and insults in Italian." Australia warned him.

"Uh huh." America dialed and put the phone to his ear.

Music came from the alleyway across from the bench.

France scoffed. "Trust him to get lost so close." He raised his voice. "We're right here, foolish Italian!"

"We know."

Three figures emerged from the alleyway. America recognized those uniforms in an instant. He froze, heart leaping into his throat, and the sight of the fourth person did little to quell his fear. Romano did not struggle in the Atlas soldier's hold, staring forward with a gun to his head and a paralyzed look on his face. His eyes locked with America's and he trembled.

Australia aimed his pistols at the soldiers. "Let him go."

"No." one soldier stated. He raised his hand, revealing a detonator with a blinking red light. The nations instantly froze, and the soldier grinned. "Now, you have a little choice to make, Vale. You can come with us quietly or part of this  _fine_  city blows up."

In a moment of horrific clarity, America knew he was trapped. There was no feasible way to locate the bomb and disarm it in time. A part of him wondered if the soldiers had used the portal near the conference hall as cover so the nations wouldn't notice the soldiers, or if they simply used another portal and made their way here. He supposed it did not matter. They knew he wouldn't risk his people.

America knelt, hands up and off Cobalt Striker.

"Okay." He said, proud his voice did not shake. "I'll go with you. Let the others leave."

"Now why would I do that?" the soldier snarled with the vindictive glee of someone who knew he held all the cards. "Your friends try to run, I press the button."

France's paralysis lost its hold on him and he began to tremble. America wished he could teleport them to safety. He wished he could magically find the bomb threatening his people and disarm it. He wished he could come up with a miraculous plan to save the day. He could do none of those things. All he could do was bargain for his friends' freedom.

"Look, you have me. I'm yours. You don't need to hurt them—"

Australia crumpled soundlessly. France cried out, lunging for him, but staggered, clutching at his neck. He collapsed to the ground, and America saw a dart in his throat. He tensed but locked his muscles in place as the Atlas soldier raised the hand holding the detonator threateningly.

"Don't try it." The man jerked his chin at Alfred. "Cuff him."

America did not resist as the manacles locked his hands behind his back. Panic clawed at his throat but he fought it off and lowered his head, unable to look the hyperventilating Romano in the eyes. He felt his phone in his pocket and his breath hitched. He couldn't escape. None of them could. But he could at least warn the others.

He shut his eyes as the soldier approached with a syringe, concentrating.

_Atlas got me France Romano Australia._

_Atlas got me France Romano Australia._

_Atlas got me France Romano Australia._

As the soldier yanked his head aside, exposing his neck, he could only pray it went through. The drug was expelled into his system, making his thoughts sluggish.

_Atlas got me… France… Romano… Australia._

_Atlas got me… France… Romano…_

_Atlas got me… France…_

_Atlas got me._

_I'm sorry._

And everything faded away.


	27. Drafted Into Service

Pale white hands gently picked up the glowing blue and gold lamp, examining it from every angle. It shimmered and sparkled, gleaming bright enough to cast strange shadows on its holder's face. The Relic of Knowledge whispered softly, ready to reveal the secrets of the world. But not quite. This Relic was special. To utilize its full power, the Relic of Creation was needed as well. Despite that setback, Salem smiled.

"You've done well, Emerald." She complemented the green-haired girl. "I admit, I am very impressed. You have succeeded in the mission I assigned you." Red eyes softened. "Cinder would be proud."

Emerald looked at the Queen of Grimm, eyes shadowed by her bangs. "I'm not doing this to make her proud."

"As you've said before." Salem commented sympathetically. "Since you've killed Cinder's murderers, you wish to complete her goals in her stead. A truly worthwhile goal. This—" She looked to the Relic of Knowledge once more. "—is the first step towards our victory."

"So what's next?" Emerald asked boldly. "The White Fang failed to destroy Haven."

"A minor, inconsequential setback." Salem reassured her. "Haven can stand a little longer. This Relic was our true goal. And as for your next mission…" Her red eyes glowed. "Atlas has grown quite predictable since she closed the borders. Watts's connections will get you inside."

"Understood. I won't fail." Emerald stated.

"I know." Salem smiled. "Which is why I have a…  _gift_  for you…"

XXXXXXX

Canada stumbled around his room at America's mansion, drifting from place to place as he gathered items in a daze. Despite the numerous nations staying there, the house was too quiet. Tony was locked in his lab, England in his room, Pyrrha in the training area, and the rest of the nations milled about like shell-shocked ghosts. It was as if, with America's absence, the life had been drained from the mansion, leaving it hollow and cold.

By the time they'd received America's message and arrived at the coordinates he sent, it was too late. He, France, Romano, Australia, and the Atlas soldiers that took them were long gone. They had gone full circle. America was back in their enemies' hands.

Canada knew England blamed himself.

The twin did not have the will to go and comfort the Brit, trapped in his own guilt and misery as he slowly realized America was lost once more. The shield was finally up and running, keeping any more Grimm or soldiers from returning to Earth, but that did little to reassure people like America's boss.

" _So let me get this straight…" the President said neutrally. "Atlas took America, France, South Italy, and Australia?"_

_Canada winced, not fooled by his calm tone. "Yes, sir."_

" _They took America after you frightened him into running off on his own?" the President asked calmly._

"… _Yes, sir." Canada whispered._

" _You… let him run off by himself?" the President asked for clarification._

_Pyrrha stared at the floor, hiding her eyes behind her bangs._

" _Yes, sir." Canada forced himself to answer._

_The President stared at him, green eyes hard. His fist struck his desktop, sending pens and papers flying to the floor, and he stood to his full height, towering over the nations despite the small difference between them._

" _You_ _ **LOST**_ _my nation?!" he thundered._

_Canada blinked rapidly. "Yes, sir."_

" _No." England choked, speaking for the first time since they found out America was taken. "_ _ **I**_ _lost him. I was a fool. I didn't focus on completing the shield—"_

" _Is it up now?" the President snapped._

_England cringed, dropping his gaze. "Yes, sir. The only way in is through the necklaces I told you about."_

" _The ones you used to return before?" At England's nod, the President's hand tightened around his desk, cracking it. Abruptly, he appeared to calm, but Canada could see the fury burning in his veins. "Get Alfred back. I don't care if you have to tear Remnant apart. Get my nation back from those_ _ **bastards**_ _."_

" _Yes, sir." Canada said quickly._

_The nations and Pyrrha fled the room before he could change his mind and decide to try to arrest the lot of them. None of them spoke the entire ride back to America's mansion, and it was only when they were back in the safety of that home when Pyrrha spoke._

" _England? You have something to take us to Remnant, correct?"_

" _Yes." England said quickly. "I have a spell and ritual that will take us to the place where we know the most people there. I need to make a couple adjustments to the necklaces that will bring us back, but we should be able to leave within the day."_

_He walked towards the lab but Pyrrha stuck out her arm, stopping him in place. She stared at him, green eyes unnervingly blank._

" _You… have a ritual to take us to Remnant?"_

_Canada felt the blood drain from his face._

_England did not comprehend what he did. "I just said that." The Brit growled._

_Pyrrha stared at him expressionlessly. "You had a ritual to take people to Remnant…_ _**this whole time?** _ _"_

_England's eyes went round with understanding and guilt. "Ms. Nikos—"_

_Pyrrha shoved past him, sending him crumpling like a bag of rocks. By the time Canada rushed to England's side, Pyrrha was down the hall, cheeks glistening with tears._

" _I'll be in the training room." She choked._

_Canada helped England up, unable to look at her as she fled._

One day later, Canada still did not know what England had been thinking. Perhaps he had worried about someone somehow hacking the ritual and coming through when Pyrrha was sent. Perhaps he wanted the shield up first. Perhaps he did not know if it would work. Or perhaps he had no excuses at all except the way to get Pyrrha home had slipped his mind. It didn't matter now.

They were going back to Remnant with her.

Canada strapped Maple Frost on his back, hefted his bag onto his shoulder, and headed out. Kumajirou was back with Cuba, with the bear clinging to his owner as long as possible until Canada gently told him he couldn't go to Remnant. It was too dangerous, even for a bear like him. After many tears and some bribes of fish from Cuba, Kumajirou had relented and allowed himself to be taken south.

The other nations— England, Japan, Italy, Germany, Prussia, Russia, and China— plus Pyrrha were already in the entrance hall, some with packs, others without. All of them had the weapons America created for them, a constant, present reminder of their mission.

"Are we ready?" Canada asked, proud his voice did not tremble.

"Not quite. I'm afraid a complication has arisen." England said tersely. "I only have five necklaces to bring us back to Earth."

"I don't need one." Pyrrha said neutrally.

England winced. "Of course. That being said, I still only have five, and I do not want to risk anyone else getting left behind. The shield stopping Atlas portals from opening up here is active now. This is our  _last_  trip to Remnant."

"So not all of us can go." Canada realized.

The nations stared at each other, slowly comprehending that some of them would have to be left behind. Italy took a breath and stepped forward.

Germany's stiff expression relaxed. "Do not feel bad for—"

"I'm going." Italy stated.

Germany balked. "What? Italy? But… you  _fear_  Remnant."

Italy smiled tremulously at him. "Big brother Romano was taken. I have to rescue him.  _You_  have to stay here."

Germany flinched like he had been struck.

Italy grasped his hand, squeezing it gently, and opened his eyes. "You're one of the few who knows everything that has happened. The nations will listen to you. You were on Remnant. They need you to fight the Grimm. You need to  _lead_  them."

"He's right, brother." Prussia brought up proudly. "You are the best leader-type nation among us." His smile faded. "I will remain on Earth as well."

"Bruder?" Germany asked, concerned.

Prussia pressed a hand to his stomach. "My insides still haven't healed completely. The wounds keep reopening. I would be a liability more than a help on Remnant." He flashed a grin. "Don't think the awesome me will stay out of the action though. The Grimm here will fall at the hands of the Awesome Prussia."

"I'll hold the fort here too, aru." China decided. "I'm too old to hunt monsters in a hellish world. My bones are too tired."

"It's settled then." Canada stated. "Pyrrha, England, Russia, Japan, Italy, and myself will rescue Alfred and the others."

They all nodded in agreement and England passed out the green stones, handing one to each of the travelers minus Pyrrha. He instructed them to prick their finger and put the blood on the stone to activate it, and with a brief glow, they were ready. England turned to Germany, handing him a blue pendant on a chain.

"This is the beacon to get us home." He said. "It will never break. Simply wear it at all times."

"Understood." Germany said seriously. He put the chain over his neck and pricked his finger, watching as the red droplet was absorbed by the anchor.

"Italy." England said. "I need to activate your Aura."

The Italian gulped and nodded, allowing England to put his hand on his chest. The Brit gave the chant and yellow light flared over his lithe frame. To Canada's surprise, England offered to activate Germany and China's Auras as well. After a stunned pause, the two nations accepted. Germany's Aura was a light blue, and China's was a brilliant gold.

Upon spotting Canada's questioning look, England explained himself. "They'd get it unlocked later anyway. Besides, you need someone with Aura to activate Aura."

"I could have done—" Prussia began.

England interrupted him, continuing on. "It'll be up to you to set up the nations in the strike force, Germany."

Germany nodded. Then his brow furrowed and he grasped Italy by his shoulders. "Feliciano, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure, Ludwig." Italy said firmly, brown eyes looking into Germany's blue. "I promise I'll come back."

Germany's expression softened and he nodded sharply. "Okay."

He stepped back and followed the nations to an empty room. England had already drawn the transportation array on the floor, which was being looked over by a skeptical Tony. The alien hurried to the nations and stopped in front of Canada, glaring at him.

"Bring America home." He commanded.

"We will." Canada vowed.

He, England, Pyrrha, Russia, Japan, and Italy stood on the array. England began to chant, calling forth darkness, light and wind as he commanded his powers to take them where they needed to go. The array flashed, and the nations and Pyrrha were gone.

XXXXXXX

"I can't believe it." Blake said faintly.

"Believe it." Weiss stated. "It's all true."

Team RWBY, Jaune, Ren, Nora, Sun, and Oscar sat around a coffee table in Mistral, mugs of tea cooling before them. The cat Faunus picked up her cup and fiddled with it, giving the youngest boy a sidelong glance.

"You're really Professor Ozpin?"

"I'm afraid so." Oscar said sheepishly.

"And there are Four Relics from the  _Gods_  in the Huntsmen Academies?"

"Yes."

"And the only people who can reach and initially activate them are nations?"

"Yeah."

Blake's ears drooped. "And Alfred and Pyrrha and the others…?"

Ruby shrank in on herself, giving Blake her answer. The silver-eyed girl was not taking their latest failure well. They had missed Mistral, Salem's forces, and the Relic by days and did not know it until it was too late, yet Ruby still agonized over their loss. Weiss tried not to let their failure bring her down, remaining herself as her teammates… floundered.

Weiss wasn't sure  _what_  to call their moods. Ruby was understandably distraught, with Blake's return only lightening her solemn disposition slightly. Weiss herself was rattled by their failure to save the Relic of Knowledge. And Yang was… The polite term would be 'furious'. Weiss couldn't say if the anger that made her eyes constantly red was directed at their inability to save the Relic, Ozpin for his recent decisions, Blake for running and coming 'crawling' back, or Yang herself.

Weiss's team was back together, but instead it felt like they were in shambles. There was no happy reunion for them. Especially since old wounds kept getting ripped back open just when they began to heal.

"I can't believe they're gone." Blake said faintly.

Jaune stood up abruptly and walked out of the room. Blake watched him go, ears going flat and pressing against her head. Sun did not provide support, staring at his tea with an oddly pensive expression.

Nora cleared her throat loudly. "So, how's your awesome Faunus army doing?"

"Better." Blake said vaguely. "They're a bit shaken up by whatever Adam did to them to make them turn on each other."

"If that's his Semblance, it's a truly dangerous one." Ren said gravely.

"Do you think he can control anyone like that?" Oscar asked hesitantly.

"I don't think so." Blake said darkly. "Otherwise he would have turned every Faunus there against me."

"Adam's Menagerie." Sun said suddenly.

The group stared at him.

"…What?" Ruby said slowly.

Sun frowned at his tea. "I'm serious. You remi— told us about the nations and it just clicked. Adam said it himself. He's  _Menagerie_. Maybe that's why he was able to sway the Faunus so easily. It's his Semblance,  _and_  they're his people."

Blake looked as if a bucket of ice water had just fallen on her head.

"You're saying the  _human-hating terrorist leader_  is the representative of Menagerie?" Weiss demanded.

Sun winced. "I guess I am. Unless…" He perked up, looking hopefully at Blake. "Could you actually be—?"

"No, Sun." Blake interrupted him. "I'm definitely not Menagerie. I'd know if I had some special connection with the Faunus back home."

Sun slumped. "Oh. That sucks. You'd be a much better representative." He glanced around uncertainly, his tail twitching behind him. "These nations are really important, huh?"

"Yes." Oscar said, eyes glowing, and Weiss realized Ozpin had taken control. "That is why we must protect Atlas at all costs."

"Not that I'm complaining, but Atlas is kind of a bitch." Nora said. She shrugged unapologetically when Weiss glared at her. "She's the one who kidnapped Alfred and Mattie and experimented on them, remember?"

More than one person winced.

"I'm afraid we still have to protect her." Ozpin said gravely. "She is Salem's next target."

"Great, we have to protect the tyrannical, militaristic sicko." Yang snarled.

Ozpin eyed her disapprovingly but did not comment. "Ms. Schnee, your pilot friend says he can get us to the closed borders. Once we meet James and explain the situation, he will assist us."

Any response they might have given was interrupted by Qrow and Jaune. The knight must have run into the Huntsman in the hall. Jaune returned to his seat, looking annoyed, while Qrow staggered to the couch and slumped onto it next to Ruby, covering his eyes.

"I hate politics." He whined.

"What happened?" Ren asked.

"Leo's gone missing." Qrow grunted. "It wasn't hard for the higher ups to figure out he's been sending Huntsmen to their deaths, now that the Council took the time to look. His desk is empty and his weapon is gone. Best guess is that he ran. Haven's in an uproar trying to find a new Headmaster. They offered me the job.  _Me_."

Yang snorted. "You'd hide liquor in your desk."

"Don't you know it." Qrow said, unashamed. He pulled out his flask and took a drink. "I declined so they're still scrambling. The situation isn't as bad as it could be. Leo is gone but Haven and Mistral are fine. Then again, they don't know about losing the Relic." He glanced at Ruby and looked away just as quickly. "That being said, we can leave with no problem."

"We're going to Atlas." Yang reminded him.

Qrow groaned. "Kill me now."

"Why do we have to go to Atlas again?" Nora asked, refusing to let the topic go. Weiss couldn't say she disagreed with her decision. "Shouldn't we focus on trying to find Vacuo?"

Sun's tail twitched. "Vacuo?"

"No one knows who he or she is." Jaune reminded them bluntly.

"The wisest course of action is to focus on Atlas and the Relic of Creation." Ozpin interjected calmly. "As I said, Salem will go for them next, and we must get there first if we wish to stop her plans."

"So it's better if Vacuo does his own thing?" Sun asked, tail flicking and curling.

"For now." Ozpin said. "He or she must be found eventually."

Sun nodded slowly, straightening his back. "Well, if—"

Green light flashed, so bright it blinded them all. When it cleared the Huntsmen and Huntresses could only stare in shock. Where once was empty air, six people stood in front of them.

Six people who should be dead.

Sun froze, mouth open. Weiss's teacup shattered on the floor. Blake gasped. Ruby burst into tears. Ren went rigid. Nora screamed in delight and threw herself at the throng.

Jaune did not move, staring at the person Nora was hugging in blatant shock. "P-Pyrrha?"

The champion's equally stunned look faded and she smiled at him, tears in her bright green eyes. It was  _Pyrrha_. She was  _standing_  there. She was  _alive_  and well. As were Matthew, Arthur, Ivan, Feliciano, and Kiku, who took in their surroundings in confusion. Still crying, Ruby launched herself at Matthew, hugging him tightly.

"You're alive!" she wailed. "You're all  _alive_."

Slowly, almost robotically, Matthew hugged her back, violet eyes round with bewilderment. Jaune stepped forward, cupping Pyrrha's face with his palm, and gazed into her eyes with such raw emotion Weiss felt invasive just by observing it.

"You're here…" he whispered.

She grasped his hand and smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry I left." She touched his armor and her brow furrowed. "You've grown."

Jaune embraced her with the desperation of a man being saved from drowning. His shoulders shook and he sobbed into her hair, crumbling like shattered glass. Pyrrha held him firmly, supporting him as his legs grew weak, and although she cried herself, she kept smiling through her tears.

The cheerful atmosphere was snuffed out in an instant as Yang stood up, eyes shadowed by her bangs. A sense of unease struck Weiss.

"Yang?" she asked cautiously, drawing everyone's attention.

The brawler ignored her, turning to look at her uncle.

"You knew." She stated.

Jaune stiffened.

Ruby's smile faded.

Nora's eyes narrowed.

Ren tensed.

Weiss felt cold.

Qrow held his niece's crimson gaze with his own. "Yes."

Yang's fist connected with his jaw with a resounding  _crack_.

XXXXXXX

" _Okay, then. That makes it easy. From now on, you're my little brother!" the man proclaimed._

_America nodded, feeling as if his happiness would burst from his skin. "Then I'll call you big brother."_

_The man blushed, a shocked expression crossing his face. To his horror, the man started to tremble and cry. He did not mean to make him sad… but he was still smiling. Was he happy?_

_The man sniffled, wiping at his eyes. "'England' is fine. That's good enough."_

" _Okay." He said. "My name is America!"_

—

_Rain soaked through his clothes and dripped from his hair and down his neck. His boots sank into the muddy ground, wetness seeping through the weathered leather and causing his toes to go numb. The rain chilled him to the bone, making the weight on his shoulders seem all the more oppressive, but he still stood strong and firm. He knew what he needed to do, for his people and himself. He could not be swayed._

" _All I want is freedom!" America proclaimed. "From now on, I'm independent!"_

—

_England shook as he pointed the gun at him, but his green eyes were dark with a desperate kind of rage._

—

_America beamed with pride as he watched James Madison create his Constitution._

—

_Canada stared down at him, and his eyes were cold and merciless. His gentle brother's teeth twisted into a snarl, and he leaned over, gaze burning like the city around them._

" _You deserve this after what your forces did." he hissed._

" _I didn't know." America gasped, body jerking as he inhaled smoke. "They weren't ordered to—"_

_Canada grabbed him by the throat, slamming his head down against the ground. America— for all his strength— could not throw off his furious twin. Maybe he didn't want to. Because although his men had burned Washington DC, although Canada was his enemy in this war, he would never, ever be able to hurt his brother._

_He had no power over the men who burned York and no way to know what they would do. He was not even there when it happened, only hearing about the looting long after. It was impossible to go back in time and stop them. He had been so caught up in his conflict with England that he forgot who else was getting hurt. All he could do was apologize and let his brother enact vengeance as he saw fit._

" _I'm sorry." America choked. "I'm sorry. Please, Mattie…"_

_Just like that, the anger in Canada's eyes faded. He looked around them at the burning city, and tears filled his eyes as he realized what he had done— what they_ _**both** _ _had done. He abruptly released America and sobbed into his hands. America sat up, ignoring the pain in his chest, and gathered his twin into his arms, rocking him gently._

_Then and there, he vowed nothing would ever come between them again._

—

_He'd made it to the Pacific Coast, from sea to shining sea. Manifest Destiny was an awful thing, and a part of him hated it, but it was what his people wanted. He knew he had blood on his hands, but he could only look to the future, and dream._

—

_America barely remembered the Civil War. All he knew was that his people were fighting, their every conflict tearing him apart, and the wound on his middle bled and bled and bled…_

—

_Things changed. Industrialization, new Amendments, Prohibition, and Women's Suffrage. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was inching towards the freedom he desired for all his people._

—

_Europe was at war. America initially tried to stay neutral, but the Zimmerman Telegram changed all that. The public demanded the United States join the war._

_So he did._

_He_ _**won** _ _._

—

_America prospered. The economy was booming, and social, artistic, and cultural dynamics changed and peaked. Technology like automobiles, motion pictures, radios, and telephones became used large-scale, and in most states, women gained the right to vote._

_He laughed and danced and spent with his people, riding high._

_And then he crashed._

—

_The weakness in America's limbs failed to fade. Too often, he collapsed, as susceptible to illness as any human wandering through the streets without food. The world meetings were the worst. He went to them with trembling, thin hands and a permanent cough, staring at his desk in order to avoid meeting furious eyes. They blamed him for the Stock Market Crash and the ruining of their economies as a result._

_And he knew their anger was justified._

—

_A second World War started. He tried to stay out of it, assisting England in secret but unable to help him publicly. That neutrality was swept away when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, so again he marched off to war._

_He was smiles and energy when he met up with the weary England, China, Russia, and France but deep down, he prayed it would be the last._

—

_Europe was in shambles. Asia was in shambles. So many countries were ravaged by war._

_America and Russia rose. They became superpowers, one capitalist, one communist._

_And with their power, their paranoia grew._

—

_There was a Civil Rights Movement._

_There was war._

_So many things went wrong, while so many went right._

_Some of America's people wished for peace, while others fought for… for_ _**what** _ _? His people were tired of this war. They were being drafted, forced to fight for a cause they didn't believe in. Word of slaughtered civilians caused protests to rise up and he felt himself breaking all over again. How could this happen?_ _**Why** _ _did this happen? Why couldn't they just_ _**go home?** _

_All America could do was try to stay together and endure._

—

_The Soviet Union collapsed._

_America could not say he was sorry._

_He could not say he was glad either._

_He was just tired._

—

_The financial crisis of 2008_ _**terrified** _ _him, and he prayed this would not be another Great Depression. It wasn't. But that economic dive scared him all the same._

—

_The Supreme Court legalized gay marriage at last, and his heart swelled with pride._

—

Things changed in the life of an immortal.

And yet some things always stayed the same.

Political parties, social reform, taxes, immigration, income inequality, economic booms and falls, foreign policy… Over and over these battles were fought. Over and over views shifted or remained the same. America adapted, as he always did. He endured, he lived, he loved, he hated, and he survived.

One day, he chased his brother into an alley.

—

" _We don't want your money."_

—

" _The truth is… we only need one of you."_

**BANG!**

—

" _Please calm down. I'm not about to cut you up. Yet."_

—

" _Subjects A and C. Today you will be facing the Grimm type 'Beowolves' in combat. You will be tested on your speed, endurance, and ability to eliminate your foes."_

—

" _Stop. Accidental femoral hemorrhage regeneration: five point three seconds. Proceeding with abdominal evisceration."_

—

" _I see you care for him deeply. A word of advice:_ _ **mind your tongue**_ _. The others will not be as kind as I am if you insult them, and they will be perfectly willing to harm Subject C to keep you in line. Am I understood?"_

—

" _I'm afraid I have been ordered not to tell you, for it relates to why you are here. I can, however say that I am also a roboticist."_

—

" _The secrets in your cells could help us regenerate limbs. You could be the key to curing all known diseases and extending human lives. And yet the General and Atlas intend to_ _ **squander**_ _your potential so you can be_ _ **hosts**_ _!" But no matter. What the General doesn't know won't hurt him. I— unlike him— understand the scientific marvel you are."_

—

" _NO!_   _Stop! Please, don't take Mattie! Take me instead! You promised. You_ _ **PROMISED**_ _!"_

—

" _They had a nation here. One of theirs. He was… conscious but weak. Dying. He couldn't fight. They… put him in a machine. And me in another pod on the machine. And… they put his Aura i-inside me."_

—

"… _Who is she?"_

" _Vale."_

—

_**PAIN.** _

—

_He vaguely remembered running through snow, and over frozen water, and into warmer lands. He remembered near-constant pain in his head, and how whenever he woke, Canada was still carrying him, still using Mantle's Semblance, still running._

_He tried to run too, tried to tell Mattie things would be okay, that they would make it, but soon the migraine would become too much and he'd faint again._

—

_America woke somewhere warm. A gentle hand touched his forehead and he leaned into it, appreciating the coldness against his burning skin. His eyelids fluttered and lifted, and he beamed blearily at the woman sitting in front of him._

" _You're one of mine!" he informed her happily. Pain ripped through his body and he leaned over the side of the bed, vomiting into the conveniently-placed trash can._

_The woman's eyes softened. "He's feverish." She said to someone sitting at her left._

_America followed her gaze, squinting at Canada. Pain wracked through his limbs and his breath hitched, but it failed to dampen his mood. He felt weird. Like floaty-stretchy-_ _**burning-pain-wrong** _ _-weird. But that was okay. His people were here. But not here. But here?_

_The pain turned his vision white and his organs felt like they were being ripped to shreds. America's lip trembled and he felt red-hot tears trickle down his cheeks. Canada was at his side in an instant, palm icy cold against his boiling skin._

" _Al, it's okay." He said soothingly. "We're safe now. We're safe."_

_America tried to tell him what was wrong but he lost his grip on consciousness and slipped away._

—

_He snapped awake to screams. America craned his head to look at the door to the little cottage the nice people of Westwind were letting the twins stay in, trapped in feverish befuddlement. Canada burst through the door, chest heaving and eyes wild._

" _We need to go!" he gasped._

_He grabbed America's arm, hoisting it around his shoulders and dragging his twin outside. America shivered in the cold, grimacing, and vomited onto the dirt, red speckles in the sick. The screams slowly reached his ears again and he struggled in Canada's grasp, looking up._

_In front of him Atlesian Knights marched forward, mowing down the fleeing civilians the Grimm failed to pick off._

_America stared at the carnage, mind going blank with incomprehension as the civilians were murdered one by one._

_Then he_ _**screamed** _ _, and bolts of lightning ripped through the sky, vaporizing his people's murderers._

_Canada carried him out of the burning village of Westwind as he continued to scream, not bothering to shush America in favor of putting as much distance between them and the village as possible._

_They ran and ran and ran and ran._

_Until Canada collapsed in the snow with a cry._

_America crumpled as well but dragged himself towards his twin, touching him with a trembling, emancipated hand._

" _M-Mattie…"_

_Canada opened dull, tear-filled eyes and grasped America's hand feebly, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. "Al."_

_America couldn't smile for him. He laid in the snow and mud, trembling in the thin white t-shirt he'd been wearing for months. "It hurts, Mattie…" he whispered._

_His brother's face contorted into an agonized expression. "I know. I wish…"_

_The pain crept over America, taking away his sight, and his consciousness faltered. As he slowly faded away, he heard Canada's broken sobs._

" _I wish we could forget it all."_

—

_They did._

—

_They woke in the mud and rain._

—

_They went to the City of Vale._

—

" _Salutations!"_

—

" _Don't trust the amber-eyed woman. She's a villain."_

—

_They went to Beacon._

—

" _Hi! I'm Ruby. This is Weiss, Blake, Yang, Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren. We form Teams RWBY and JNPR."_

—

_America remembered the truth._

—

" _I need you to become Vale."_

—

" _Vale didn't ask for this. Neither did I. But… to protect her— our people, w-we need to be the heroes that save everyone. I'll do it. I'll accept the rest of Vale's Aura."_

—

_England and the others arrived at Beacon._

_He and England fought._

—

_Yang, his_ _**friend** _ _, attacked him. She shot him in the gut._

—

" _This time I win."_

—

_He woke when Vale was under attack._

—

_Cinder killed Amber and the transfer failed._

—

_Then Cinder died._

_He and Vale merged._

_And America lost it all._

Until now.

XXXXXXX

Upon waking, the first thing America noticed was he could not see. The second was the manacles binding his hands and feet. The third was the heavy metal collar around his neck. And the fourth was the metal shoved in his mouth. It was not a normal gag, for it wrapped around a large part of his head— over and under his ears and beneath his chin— making him suspect it could not simply be untied and taken off. Despite that, a part of America was grateful for the gag, for it muffled his panicked cry when he realized what had happened.

Other than his situation, he immediately knew something felt  _wrong_. Something hovered at the edge of his consciousness, repelling him as much as it drew him in with vague, confused whispers, but before he could investigate it, a hand brushed his hair. He recoiled, pressing against the flat surface behind him; a wall? His common sense caught up with him and he summoned lightning to his hands—

"I would not do that if I were you." A familiar voice said. "The collar you are wearing will drug you if you call on Vale's Semblance."

America let the lightning fade.

"Good boy." His captor praised, and his skin crawled.

A needle pricked his neck and jagged shards of ice ripped through his veins, leaving weakness in its wake. He slumped in his bonds, the sting of fear and betrayal clawing at his heart.

"I apologize." His captor said. "I thought you would wake later. You two; grab him."

Cold hands grasped America's arms and the manacles clicked, falling away. They pulled him almost upright, lifting him by his shoulders, and more hands grabbed his ankles. America's head lolled as he was lifted completely off the ground. Panic pumped through his body as he was carried— blind and helpless— to who knew where. They could be preparing to throw him into a chasm or a pit filled with Grimm for all he knew.

After a silence filled only with the taps of shoes on tile, the hands released America. His heart leapt into his throat as he fell into the open air, but he hit the ground mercifully quickly.

"Careful!" his captor bellowed. "Don't  _break_  him, you fools!"

The cold hands wrenched his arms above his head, dragging him up off the floor. They shoved his upper body down on a flat surface and handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists once more, his ankles soon after. The hands let go and America slumped, unable to remain upright. He jerked to a halt before his thighs could meet the floor. The chains holding him were not long enough to let him sit so he hung awkwardly by his wrists, hunched against whatever he was attached to.

"Oh dear. I appear to have misjudged how long to make the chains. No matter. Perhaps the discomfort shall motivation you." The warm hands stroked America's hair again but he couldn't shudder. "Don't fret. You should be able to move in a moment."

America's fingers twitched.

His captor chuckled. "Right on schedule. Excellent. Now, do you remember who I am?"

America did not move.

The hand grasped the back of his neck, pressing the metal collar into his skin. "Don't test my patience, child."

America nodded weakly.

"Excellent." His captor crowed. "Then I don't need to explain." A hand brushed America's cheek. "I deeply apologize for my roughness but I know you wouldn't help me willingly. No one else has. The fools! They believe I have gone insane.  _Me!_  I am not insane. I am  _driven_. They refuse to see what can be— what  _must_  be done."

Fingers tightened on the back of America's neck and fingernails dug into his flesh, eliciting a muffled cry from the nation. His captor let him go and gathered himself.

"I apologize, again. I'm afraid I've had a bit of trouble with my temper lately. But I promise that if you do what I ask, I will not hurt you. Understand?"

His tone remained friendly, but America could hear the threat lurking beneath it. He nodded.

"Good. Thank you for being so compliant. I'm sure you will understand the importance of my mission, unlike  _them_." America's captor patted his head. The nation kept perfectly still. His captor chuckled. "Of course, you don't know why you're here yet. But you will. And you'll help me. You're the only one who can." His captor's voice grew soft. "I had a daughter, you know. She was murdered. By one of your friends, in fact."

The hand grabbed America's throat and he choked. He grasped at the fingers crushing his trachea but a familiar prick left him limp and helpless once more. Thankfully, his captor realized what he was doing and released him.

"Don't fret; I do not blame you. I know you are unaware of your friend's crime. I'm not angry with you." The hand patted America's cheek. "I would have left you in peace but as I said, you are the only one who can save my daughter. She was  _murdered_ —"

His voice cracked with a mixture of sorrow and something much more dangerous as he repeated himself. The hand grabbed America's hair, yanking him to his feet, and his captor ripped the blindfold off. America's eyes focused and he saw he was attached to a table in a well-lit room.

On that table lay the body of an orange-haired girl, who he recognized in an instant.

Because she was not just any girl.

She was his  _friend_.

"— and you are going to  _bring. Her._ _ **Back**_ _._ " Doctor Polendina snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's a wrap. Sorry for the cliffhangers but this is literally the best spot I could end it. We're in the next arc. The next book will be out this Friday, don't worry.
> 
> Yes, I said this Friday.
> 
> Oh, and if a significant or important historical event was not mentioned in that one section it's because I didn't feel like mentioning it. That section was just to show America got all his memories back not provide a full summary of history.
> 
> The FAQ will be in the comment section. Please scan through it. Thanks!


End file.
